Harry & The Potter Universe
by NatNicole
Summary: What to do when reborn into a world of magic? Wreak a helluva lot of havoc, of course!
1. B1 Chapter 1

**_Harry and The Potter Universe_**

Rated for all the character deaths and violence that will pop up, **especially** later on.

Warning: Some small(ish) parts are copied directly from canon. I do NOT own those bits!

 **Disclaimer** : Not Rowling, ergo don't own _'Harry Potter'_.

 **Summary** : Hadrian Evans, known as simply Harry, was a perfectly normal bloke. Then he died. And was born again. To a world of MAGIC. (Self-Insert)

* * *

 ** _BOOK I: THE MISCHIEF MANAGED_**

* * *

 **Chapter 1. Death and Rebirth**

* * *

Dying was not fun. No light at the end of the tunnel, or life flashing before your eyes. Nope, just the searing pain of being shocked/burnt alive ON HIS 19TH BIRTHDAY because Harry was moronic enough to mess with an electric socket when he was bored.

It took several minutes before his mind registered that he was no longer in pain. The cringing teen slowly opened his eyes, taking in the sight of blank, pale grey nothingness surrounding him. "Well… if this is the afterlife, it frankly sucks."

A low, icy-cold chuckle that sent shivers down Harry's spine sounded behind him. The ravenette whirled around, light emerald eyes widening at the sight that met him. A hooded figure in a night-sky cloak holding a scythe in one bone-hand was floating in front of him. Only a grin from razor teeth was visible from its face.

Harry gulped. "A-are you… Death?"

The figure nodded. "Correct, though I am only using this form right now because you humans seem to find it fitting. Hadrian Evans, unfortunately, I lost to my annoying twin – Fate – in a game of poker and it decided it wants you. Enjoy."

"Huh?" Everything went dark.

* * *

Next thing Harry knew, he was squeezed through a squishy narrow tunnel and came out of the end covered in gloop. So he screamed.

* * *

It took three months, but eventually Harry's mind registered that he was a newborn baby. The pretty woman with wavy, dark red hair that curled at the ends, lightly tanned complexion, dimples and an elfish nose was his new mother, and a handsome man with caramel-highlighted, messy mop of raven hair that stuck up at the back of his head on its own accord, square-rimmed black glasses and sunkissed skin was his new father. (Although, both looked a bit on the tired side for some reason…)

Their names were Lily and James.

"Hey there, Prongslet!" James said one morning, carefully lifting Harry out of his wooden crib. He held the infant teen close, one hand supporting the small head.

 _That… is the stupidest nickname I've ever heard for a kid,_ Harry thought amusedly, giggling against his will. _Damn Death made me a bloody baby! I swear, next time I see 'im I'll give that arse a good kick where it hurts._

"Aw, you like it!" James exclaimed, going carefully downstairs and happily sauntering into the living-room over to his wife. "See, Lils? I knew my son will be a Marauder."

 _The fuck's a Marauder?_ Harry wondered, thinking James must be a weird guy.

"My hairy sprog!" a pale but healthy 20-year-old man – who looked vaguely similar to James but had a small, square chin, silky, jet black hair that fell in waves to just above his shoulders and eyes as full of mischief as James' were – called out as he sprung to his feet and walked over from where he had been talking to Lily on the sofa.

The redhead got up. "Sirius Orion Black, for the last time **stop calling my son that**!" she half-shouted, making the men cringe. Harry laughed, thinking that was hilarious.

Sirius made a whining sound that was disturbingly similar to a dog, the look on his face indignant. "Prongslet, I thought you were supposed to be on my side!"

 _Heck no! I learned the hard way women are always right_ , the teen infant thought, still giggling.

* * *

Exactly a year passed since the day Harry became fully aware of what was going on.

Harry found that he had next to no control in this body. If he felt any strong emotion – embarrassment (more like mortification), as well as anger and sadness at not getting to see Remus J. Lupin beyond two or three rare visits and Sirius' decreasing visits – he would cry like there was no tomorrow. Any time Harry was amused or happy, he would giggle. Being held by James or Lily always filled him with a sense of being calm, safe and loved. Sirius was the fun uncle who made him laugh – he very hard tried to sound manly, to no avail – and Remus those couple times the uncle that was fun to be with in a calmer way. Then there was Peter Pettigrew, whom Harry couldn't decide the few instances they met whether he disliked or not. Something about his watery, beady eyes unnerved him…

There was also one thing that bothered Harry, making him wonder if all of this was a hallucination. He certainly felt much confusion over the fact that these people were MAGICAL. James and Sirius loved using their wands to do entertaining things with furniture or his clothes, and Lily sometimes made colourful sparks come from hers and once shot water at Sirius' face. Even Remus had Magic, making Harry's baby toys dance in the air around him during his second visit. Heck, a couple times Sirius turned into a huge black dog and gave Harry rides on his back, and there was the one time James transformed into a handsome caramel brown stag with black antlers (earning himself a reprimand from Lily).

* * *

When Harry was 6 and a half months old, he had met Remus for the first time (that he could remember). Sirius was off doing something important.

"Harry, this is Remus," Lily introduced, gently bouncing her son as she stood in front of her remaining closest male friend. The guest waved at him, and beamed when Harry grinned a baby smile.

"Hey, Moony!" James greeted one of his best friends, slapping a hand onto Remus' shoulder.

"Hey, Prongs," the scarred young man replied with a mischievous smile.

Lily rolled her eyes – which Harry had inherited – at the strange nicknames. "I still can't believe you lot broke the law like that."

James shrugged. "Friends stick together." His smile, which had seemed the tiniest bit strained to Harry, became much more real. But something – _Guilt?_ – flashed in his hazel eyes. "Speaking of which, how are things?"

Remus shrugged, grimacing. "Getting worse by the day. The McKinnons were ...attacked last week."

"What?!" Lily exclaimed, horrified. Grief hit her like a blow to the stomach. "Marlene…"

Remus looked guilty. "Sorry, I don't show up for months and when I finally do all I give you is bad news. I shouldn't have come…"

Now Harry felt bad. It seemed to him Remus had it really rough, and he could certainly empathize with that. He tried to say the sandy-haired male's name, but all he got out was baby babble. James and Lily instantly said they were glad to see Remus and it was You-Know-Who's and all the Death Eaters' fault entire families were dying every week.

 _Terrorists?_ Harry thought, scrunching up his face and crying a little in distress at the thought of these people he had started to care for in a warzone. _…Why am I such a baby?_

"Oh, sweetie, it's all right. Don't cry," Lily said soothingly, dancing about the living room with the baby in her arms.

Remus smiled softly. "You know, Prongs, seeing Harry reminds me what we all are fighting for." James nodded in agreement, a small, proud smile on his face.

Mother and son came to a stop between the two men. Harry was smiling, leaning his head against Lily's collarbone and upper chest. The sound of her heart was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard…

 _Wait, what the heck?!_ Harry turned his head a bit, puzzled at the warm, fuzzy feeling inside himself. He blinked, then looked at Remus. Reaching out a hand, he again tried to say the visitor's name but nothing intelligible came out. Harry pouted – scowled, grown boys did **not** pout – and said very firmly: "Moo'y."

The adults blinked. James snapped out of it first. "Did he just say what I think he said?"

Lily turned Harry so he was facing her. "Oh, my sweetie said his first word! Mummy's so proud!"

Remus looked like he had been hit over the head. "Did Harry… call me Moony?"

Pleased at the reactions he was receiving for no reason he dared think of, the baby repeated himself: "Moo'y." _This is fun!_ "Moo'y, Moo'y, **Moo'y**!"

"Unbelievable! He already said his first word!" James exclaimed, puffing his chest with a proud look.

Harry giggled, then patted Lily on their shared elfish nose. "Mum-me."

More happy reactions. James put a hand on his son's side and asked if he could say 'Daddy'.

Harry smirked, though it looked more like a strange baby smile, and answered: "'Ong'."

Remus and Lily burst out laughing. James was a little less amused, though he too chuckled. "No, no, no, Harry. Say 'Daddy'."

"Pa'foo'!" He had heard Sirius be referred to as that by his new father every one of the few times he had been in the homely wooden cottage.

James facepalmed, Remus said something Harry didn't quite catch, and Lily bit her lip to stifle her giggles.

 _Okay, I've had enough fun at the poor guy's expense._ "Dada?" Que much happiness from James that made Harry feel very happy too. The bespectacled man carefully pulled his son into his arms and did a little jig that made Harry feel a bit sick.

"Here, why don't you hold him, Remus?" Lily suggested as they all sat down on the sofa, her husband and son on one side of their friend and herself on the other. She moved Harry from James' lap onto Remus' and guided him on how to support the infant's head.

Harry found the terrified look on the sandy brunette's face hilarious. Starting to feel drowsy after all the excitement, he felt his eyelids beginning to droop. Harry slipped into blissful sleep, murmuring: "Moo'y…"

* * *

Two weeks later, the baby boy considered being able to sit without support a victory. But learning to crawl turned out to be far more of a challenge than he had expected.

The teen infant pushed himself up into a sitting position atop the carpet he had been laying on, leaning on his arms for support. Harry was so focused on his new task, he didn't notice James nudge Lily whom then pointed her wand to make a camera come zooming into her hand.

 _Okay, push yourself up on your hands and knees first, Hal. Hands and knees_ , Harry thought, slowly doing so. _Great. … Now what? … Uhh, right hand, left knee– lift, push forward, and… rest. Yes!_ He started moving again, smiling. _Next, same with the opposite sides; left hand, right knee– lift, push forward, and–_

Thump. "Waaah!"

James snorted, at which Lily smacked the back of his head. Harry, having turned his head to give the baby equivalent of a glare to his new father, erupted into a fit of giggles.

He pushed himself up again. _I need a target to aim for… Aha! My Leo!_

Leo the red stuffed lion had been a present from Sirius the last time he came. Harry had latched onto the thing and ever since wouldn't let go if he could help it.

"Uh! Uh!" Stretching his fingers out to their limits, Harry began kicking his feet and felt a jolt of exhilaration when he felt his body slide forward. "Mmmmipf. Mmmipf." He kicked again, managed to nab a piece of his blanket (which was on top of the carpet), and push forward.

 _SUCCESS!_ the 7-months-old teen mentally cheered. _Perhaps I could slither over there… I just need to kick… again…_ Harry kicked his feet once more, wiggled his stomach, and swiped his arms in front of himself like he was performing a breaststroke. He felt his tiny body inch forward and giggled in delight.

"Hey, Prongslet, I thought you were going to **crawl**!" James said, getting off the sofa and walking over to Leo. He squatted down, picked it up, and waved it a bit. "If you want Leo, you need to crawl, not slither like a snake. C'mon, Pup, you can do it." Pup was Remus' and Sirius' special nickname for Harry, and the baby definitely preferred it to Prongslet or, **worse** , hairy sprog.

"Mime!" Harry cried out sadly, reaching in vain for his Leo. He forgot all about why he started doing this in the first place, only able to think about how far away the best red lion in the world was. Whines of frustration began to escape the tiny teen as he wiggled forward, but James inched away. "Miiiiimmmmme!" Tears began leaking down the tiny face as Harry sent his dada the most pitiful stare he could.

"Oh, sweetie…" Lily sighed with a fond smile, but made no move to help him. Harry tried to turn his head to look at her, but that hurt. He looked at James and, more importantly, **Leo** again.

"MIME!"

"Come on, Pup, you can do it!" the bespectacled young man encouraged.

Harry pouted, then pulled himself into the crawling position and slowly moved his right hand forward. "Atta boy! That's it!" Smiling widely at the positive reaction from his dada, the baby slid his left knee forward. It was definitely easier than lifting his knee; he didn't feel like he would tip over! _Next, left hand…_ Moving forward wasn't so bad after all. He managed to keep his balance the entire time. It was wicked!

 _Right knee slide… right hand forward, left knee slide…_

"There we go! You're doing it, Pup, you're doing it!" his mummy called out encouragingly. Harry grinned and tried to turn his head to look at her, but that only made him fall over.

Tears sprang into his eyes, though he hadn't hurt himself. It was just so frustrating!

James made a frustrated noise too, though he was smiling encouragingly the whole time. "Oh, Harry! C'mon, son, we believe in you. Try again."

Harry pulled himself up. _They believe in me! … Left hand forward, right knee slide… right hand forward, left knee slide…_

"You're moving, Harry!"

 _…_ _Left hand forward, right knee slide, right hand forward, left knee slide…_

"Your Leo is right here, Pup. Just one more set to go!"

 _…_ _Left hand forward, right knee slide, right hand forward, left knee slide!_

When Harry's little fist closed around his stuffed toy's paw, a jolt of exhilaration ran up his arm. He smiled up at James. "There now, you see?" The messy-haired pair beamed at each other, James gathering Harry up into his arms and tucking him into his side. "You can do anything, so long as you put your mind to it, eh?" The tiny teen burrowed closer and his Prongs wrapped an arm protectively around him.

Lily came over and kissed Harry's forehead, the camera in her hand. She then pecked her husband on the lips. "You were great too, Jamie."

 _I did it, I did it, I did it! … …Wait, since when are these two Mummy and Dada? … Aw, who cares?_

* * *

One day, Harry was being bathed by Lily when she pointed her wand at her own palm and made a small cut. _What are you doing?_ "Wha' aw oof?" His speaking skills had never gotten beyond 'Ongs, Moo'y, Mummy, Dada, Pa'foo', mime, and a handful of other words. Nothing coming out of his mouth would come out properly no matter how hard he tired, and Harry had long given up on sounding any better than semi-coherent.

Lily dipped a finger in her blood and drew what felt like a tiny lightning bolt onto Harry's forehead. Next she did other small markings all over his body, then waved her wand over the baby's head while chanting something in a language Harry didn't understand in the least but suspected to be Gaelic or something similarly ancient. The bloody markings glowed emerald for half a second before vanishing from sight as if they had never been there to begin with.

Bath-time went on as usual, and Harry soon forgot all about the marks in favour of bubbles.

* * *

At just below a year old, Harry decided he was sick of his new parents constantly carrying him or being with him 24/7. Sure, he knew a baby should never be left alone in a room, but he **needed** his independence! So, Harry made a plan – he was going to figure out how to walk so he can move about faster and explore the house at his own leisure.

It turned out to be a little easier than crawling. He just had to pull himself up to stand beside the sofa, then run to his mummy and cling to her leg. The surprised look on her face was the best!

About a couple weeks later, Harry was zooming all over the place on his toy broomstick (a birthday present his godfather sent him; his visits had come to a near-end) with James following him on foot and Lily taking some photos before sitting down to write a letter. "What was Sirius thinking? Harry could be **hurt** on that thing!"

"Aw, come now, love. It has Safety Charms on it," James replied, picking up his son when Harry carefully landed on one of the pillows spread around underneath him. The teenage baby giggled, having thoroughfully enjoyed the flight and liking being in his dada's arms.

 _We're a family._ _ **I**_ _have a_ _ **family**_ _…_

* * *

A.N.: Harry knows squat about this universe. I wondered what would have happened if the main character of Rowling's books had been a reborn teenager.

P.S. In canon Book 5, it's mentioned that James' hair is black. I've always pictured him with light brown hair, so in this thing I gave him naturally caramel highlights.

P.P.S. Wikia says the McKinnons were murdered by Death Eaters in mid-1981. I moved it to early 1981 instead.


	2. B1 Chapter 2

**Chapter 2. Shattered Heart**

* * *

Sirius looked almost as haggard as James, the duo arguing fiercely in the corner. The redhead ignored them.

"My grandfather had been a soldier in World War II," Lily was saying to Harry, though she attributed his intent listening as a trick of her imagination in result of all the stress.

Harry thought she was probably saying this more for her own benefit than his; an infant wasn't expected to understand these things, after all. "Gwan'fa?" the tiny teen asked, since this was easier than saying grandfather. His mummy nodded.

"He had to kill or be killed. I tried to explain that to Albus, but he wouldn't hear it. He said to kill another person is bad, no matter the circumstances." Lily sighed sadly. "I wish this would all just end already. Or we need to get out of the country someday soon. You're only a baby, for Merlin's sake!"

 _Mum, what are you talking about?_ Now Harry was really confused, not to mention scared. It hadn't taken a genius to figure out they were in the middle of a civil war brought on by terrorists, but his parents hardly ever mentioned it. Harry was getting the feeling they had become more and more worried by the day lately, and it had been almost half a year since he saw Remus. He missed the guy a little... His nickname **had** been the babyfied teenager's first word, after all.

Lily sighed, then plastered a smile on her face and started bouncing little son of hers atop a knee. "Who's the smartest, bravest, most handsome wizard in the land?" his mummy cooed into his ear. The tiny teen laughed, waving his chubby little fists. "That's right! You are. My sweet, sweet love."

"Lily, talk some sense into your idiot husband," Sirius growled from their corner. Lily rolled her eyes at them both.

"It hasn't worked yet; I fail to see why he would start now," she replied dryly.

"Look, Lils, I was – still am – honoured, okay? I'm honoured that James tossed Dumbledore over and chose me as the Secret-Keeper, but **everyone** will have expected it. I was even caught the other day! It was only because of dumb luck I got out before You-Know-Who would have torn through my mind. We need to change the Keeper.

What if we used someone else, someone no-one would suspect as the Secret-Keeper? I could keep the Death Tossers occupied, but the Secret-Keeper would be safe and the risk will be gone. Perfect, right?" Sirius was pleading, and it bothered Lily more than she could say. He was always handsome, arrogant, smooth. Sirius oozed confidence out of every pore. This desperate man was not their Padfoot.

"What about Remus, then?" Lily said. She loved Remus just as much as she loved Sirius, and the estrangement between them hurt her as it did the redhead's husband.

"No," Sirius said flatly. At the incessant voice inside his head, he mentally snarled: _SHUT UP!_ "I was thinking Peter might be better."

"Peter?" Lily asked in surprise. Sirius gave a sharp laugh that grated against her nerves.

"See?" he asked James. "Even Lily didn't consider him."

"I don't know, Padfoot." James ran a hand through his hair.

"Please think about it," Sirius begged the best friend he had seen ever since First Year as his brother.

"Fine. Fine. We'll think about it," James muttered eventually.

* * *

A few days later, it was the night of All Hallows Eve.

James was pacing in the living-room **again** , face contorted with worry and fear for all the people he loved. Lily was standing nearby, watching him. Her eyes tracked his every movement, face pale and drawn. Harry bit his lip from where he was sitting in his bouncer, forcing himself to not cry. He didn't like this at all!

The crackle and hiss of power made them all turn to the door – the Wards had fallen! Then James rushed to the window near the door. He quickly picked up Harry and handed the baby to his wife, yelling: "Lily, he's here! It's him! Take Harry and go! Run, Lily! Run!"

"I love you," she threw over her shoulder, running up the stairs as fast as she could clutching their son to her chest.

"DADA!" Harry cried out as the door was suddenly blown off its hinges.

James lost his balance for a moment, knocked away by the backlash. The pain of it made him lose his breath, but he was back to his feet after that. Facing death. James knew what was coming, he had known for months, and he didn't fear death. He had Peverell blood, for Godric's sake!

A short, plump young man walked in behind Voldemort. **Peter**. The pain in James' chest was overwhelming. For just a moment, hatred and anger almost took control. Almost. He fought for precious seconds – releasing the hatred and giving up the anger. _Lily. Harry. I love you._ He let go of everything, for them. James Cepheus Potter looked at Peter, ignoring Voldemort completely.

"I forgive you," he said, defenceless with his wand in the kitchen. Still, the son of Dorea Potter née Black was NOT about to go down without a fight.

He kicked the coffee table at Voldemort, who Reducto-ed it like he had done to the front door. Lord James of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter ducked out of the way of a Stunner, tossing two sofa pillows only for a Diffindo to cut through them. There was a flash of bright green light as Voldemort smiled cruelly and lazily lowered his wand, having just cast Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse.

Peter Pettigrew looked regretfully at his former friend, laying on the floor with glasses askew and hazel eyes lifeless.

Upstairs, Lily had just placed Harry into his wooden crib. She then a pricked her finger and carefully placed a drop of blood onto a small lightning bolt mark carved onto the middle of the front horizontal pole.

Markings that had been carved all over the crib via a kitchen knife lit up with a crimson glow the instant the blood drop touched its target. The glow faded away a moment later.

 _What's going on?_ Harry wondered silently, confused and terrified. Confused because he didn't understand **why** the Potters were being targeted nor why Lily just made herself bleed a very tiny bit. Terrified because he did not want to lose his family or see them hurt.

His mummy picked him up again, gently rocking her only child. "Harry, you are so loved. Mummy loves you. Dada loves you. Harry, be safe. Be strong." She kissed his forehead, the markings reappearing on his body and pulsing with emerald magic for a fraction of a second before vanishing from sight again.

The door was slammed open.

Lily put Harry back into the crib and whirled around, facing a tall, dark-haired man with very pasty skin, bloodshot eyes with the original colour surrounding the irises long-replaced by a creepy shade of red, wearing a black cloak.

"Stand aside," he said in a strange, slightly hissing voice that did not sound human.

"No, not Harry!" Lily – to her son's silent horror – begged. "Please, no, take me, kill me instead! Not my son!"

Tears streamed down the tiny teen's chubby baby cheeks. **_I'm_** _the one that guy's after…? Mum, do as he says! Stand aside!_

The murderer's patience was running thin. "I am being very generous, now stand aside Mudblood!"

"Not Harry! Please… Have mercy! Not Harry! Please– I'll do anything! Take me, just let my son live!"

 _Mum, I'm not worth your an' Dad's lives!_

"This is my last warning – **stand aside**."

"Not my son, **please** , not my son! Kill me instead!"

 _Mum, NO!_

"As you wish. Avada Kedavra!"

"NOOO!" The cry tore from Harry's throat as a burst of emerald light hit Lily Rose Potter née Evans' chest and she fell, lifeless, to the floor. He started to earnestly cry, tears streaming down his cheeks. The murderer let loose a truly evil, shrill, high-pitched laughter.

Neither noticed the inside of the room shimmering with powerful magic, the entirety of the two perished Potters' Magic.

The murderer turned his wand towards the baby in the crib, who just kept crying. Harry did not fear death at all, only grieving over losing the only family he ever had.

He didn't even flinch when the bright green light sailed towards him. It hit his forehead, and Harry screamed in pain as an explosion blasted apart the roof of the house. The last thing he saw was a black mist screaming with rage and flying away. Then darkness consumed him.

* * *

Harry woke up to the smell of smoke a little later, and started crying out of fear. His forehead hurt, and he had the feeling that something truly horrible had happened.

He heard someone heavy approaching.

"Mummy? Dada?"

"I'mma so sorry, lit'l' one," an unfamiliar voice said, and suddenly very large hands – as in, **thrice** the size of James' average ones – gathered the blue blankets into a nest around Harry and lifted him up. "This shou'da ne'er have happened… Poor Lily… James…"

The giant, for that was what the person seemed to be to Harry, carried him out of the nursery, down the stairs and out of the burning house.

* * *

Nearby, a motorbike with a sidecar attached to it roared. A haggard-looking young man was sitting on it, his knuckles white as he gripped the handles and his expression filled with panic and terror.

Sirius Black III landed his flying vehicle in front of the burning cottage. The wheels had hardly hit the ground before he leapt off and tore through the doorway.

Dead. James and Lily were **dead**.

Sirius felt as if a cold hand had gripped his heart tightly, holding it firmly in an unwavering grip and making it difficult for him to breathe. He felt as if a bucket of icy cold water had been dumped over his head, and he couldn't quite get the shaking of his hands to stop.

His best friend, his brother in all but blood, was laying lifeless in the middle of the living-room, wand nowhere in sight. One of the few people that had done so much for him, the man he would literally sacrifice the world for lay before him, dead.

Sirius was only able to stare at James' vacant eyes for so long before having to avert his gaze.

"I can't believe it." The estranged Black's head snapped up at the familiar voice, and he rose to his feet from the squatting position to see Hagrid descending the stairs tenderly carrying a blue bundle. His black beetle eyes were wet with tears.

Hagrid dried them with a large pink handkerchief and then proceeded to use it to blow his nose. "Lily an' James Potter… Couldn't find more wonderful people anywhere! An' now they're– They're–!"

 ** _No_** _. Not Lily too._

Sirius swallowed, forcing back the tears that welled up in his own eyes. There would be a time for crying – there would be plenty of time for that later – but right now Sirius had other things to do. He had already lost two friends today, he couldn't bear to think he might've lost their son as well.

The two men walked out of the house, one thrice the size of the other and gently placing a comforting hand on the younger male's shoulder. "Give Harry to me, Hagrid," Sirius said as he stood between the ruined house and his motorbike's front wheel. "I'm his **godfather**."

The giant of a man looked unsure. "Dumbledore tol' me to come 'ere, see if there are survivors. An' bring 'em to him in Surrey."

"Surrey?" Now Sirius was confused. _Why in Merlin's name…?_

"Fo' safety. 'Arry will be safe there."

"Oh. A-all right." _Of course. I can't even do that. Keep my own godson_ _ **safe**_ _._

"Pa'foo'?" At the small voice, both males looked at the bundle. Harry looked even smaller now that he was being held by someone as big as Hagrid, Sirius couldn't help but notice this. "Pa'foo'!"

" **Harry** …" Sirius gently took the bundle from Hagrid, looking at his godson with misty eyes as he blinked back tears. _Thank you._ _ **Thank you**_ _whatever deities gave us this_ _ **miracle**_ _. Thank you for letting our Pup live._

The infant cried, quietly thankful he had someone familiar holding him. His godfather gave him a hug, but – to Harry's immense distress – handed him back to the big stranger. "Pa'foo'! **Pa'foo'!** "

Sirius winced, asking Hagrid: "Will you take care of Harry?"

He didn't like the idea of his little Harry being taken off to stay with someone other than himself, but it would be a temporary arrangement until he could take Harry in properly. Sirius would talk to Dumbledore about it later. After the funeral, probably.

 _What?! NO, don't leave me! Don't_ _ **leave me**_ _, Padfoot!_ Harry panicked, trying in vain to struggle free from the blankets. "Pa'foo'!"

Sirius winced again, stepping back. He gestured to his motorcycle. "You can borrow my bike. I've got some stuff that I need to do so I won't be needing it."

Hagrid thanked his younger, smaller friend and put Harry into the sidecar before he climbed onto the motorbike. Sirius turned around and ran, his godson's desperate cries echoing in his ears.

"Pa'foo'! No lee me! **PA'FOO'**!" _He left me._ _ **Padfoot**_ _left me. HE_ _ **LEFT**_ _ME!_

When the only parents he had ever known died, Harry thought he would never again feel anywhere near as agonizing pain as what he felt at that moment in his chest. Ever.

He was wrong.

Harry did not even notice that the motorbike and its sidecar were rising to the air. He paid no attention when Hagrid stopped several times, trying to calm the little one through food, a hand-knitted scarf and other ways that usually made infants feel better. Tears silently streamed down his cheeks, until The Boy-Who-Lived eventually cried himself to sleep.

* * *

A.N.: In canon, Harry remembers part of what happened. The reincarnation is my excuse for that, but there is a reason he forgot it all soon enough.

P.S. The words in the exchange between Lily and Voldemort are important.

P.P.S. I updated this chapter, changing Jamie's death scene a bit. There is NO way James Potter I woulda gone down without a fight. And that also bought Lily enough time to try Disapparating followed by activating the Soul-Protection Ritual. About Sirius, at first I considered changing the final scene of this chapter so Sirius does NOT just leave Harry like that, but I thought: _Then again, it IS very canon Sirius to do just that._ Hope I made his (debatably) acceptable reasoning clear.


	3. B1 Chapter 3

**Chapter 3. The Dreadful Dursleys**

* * *

The sun rose over the neat hedges and tidy front gardens of Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England on November 1st 1981. Its warming rays lit up the brass number 4 on one front door, which was opened by a straw-blonde with a longer than average neck and whose rather horse-like face could be pretty if she wasn't always frowning or making ugly cooing expressions at her infant son.

Sky blue eyes widened, the empty milk bottles she had been about to put out shattering on impact with cold stone. Birds took to the early morning sky with cries of alarm at the woman's scream.

Light emerald eyes snapped open. _What the…? Where am I?_ The babyfied teen attempted to move, but found that he was stuck. And bundled up with blue blankets. Spotting a note tucked half-way inside the blanket clutched in his hand, his little mouth dropped open in astonishment.

The woman withdrew herself and slammed the door, leaving the bundle on the doorstep.

 _What the bloody–,_ here a long stream of profanities no child should think or say, let alone a 15-month-old, went through his mind, _–hell is GOING ON?!_ Harry turned his little head slightly and stared up at a big, beefy man with hardly any neck and a large, bushy brown moustache as he opened the door and carefully picked him up. Turning to someone – most likely the woman – behind himself, he said: "It's just a baby, Pet. There's a note with it."

The door was closed behind them, and Petunia Marie Dursley née Evans scowled at the infant as she plucked the note from the blankets. Her husband went to the living-room and placed the baby next to their son in a playpen.

The other 1-year-old looked curiously at the newcomer, then immediately started pulling at the blankets. "Shan't! Shan't!" he insisted.

The dark-haired baby sat up and let the other take his blankets, lost in thought. _OK, Harry, just calm down and think of the known facts… Nobody I know is around. I am with strangers after waking up dumped literally on a doorstep. … Yup, I'm screwed._

The two adults talked in hushed tones. He caught the words "freaks", "sister", "dead", "protection" and "stay", which only served to increase his anxiety. The Dursleys came over, Petunia picked up "Dinky-Duddiums", and the family of three went through the doorway into the kitchen to have their breakfast.

When Petunia placed her son in his highchair, Dudley – _Poor kid, no-one deserves a name like_ _ **that**_ _,_ the twice-orphaned boy thought with a sense of pity – declared loudly: "Shan't!"

The man, Vernon, left for work after quickly eating.

Harry sighed sadly when Petunia placed Dudley back into the playpen and the round baby promptly, if quite clumsily, pinched his cousin. _Mum an' Dad, gone… Padfoot, abandoned me… I'm all alone_ _ **again**_ _…_

Dudley started to get frustrated, hitting and kicking Harry repeatedly. "Won't! Mine! Aggah! Shan't! Nannah! Gooh!" The whole time, his mother pretended to not see and fetched a caterpillar toy, amongst others, from upstairs.

"Ouch!" Eyes flashed like the 'Death Spell' at the other infant sinking the few teeth he had into Harry's arm, the intelligence of a teenager briefly imagining violent ways for the blonde to pay for this offence. But instead, the reincarnated boy lost his temper and bit Dudley's hand.

He let up in shock at a strong sting on the side of his face shortly following Dudley's ear-splitting cry of pain ( _Holy cheesecake, the kid's got lungs!_ Harry would later think). The round infant was picked up by bony arms, and Harry looked up to see Petunia fussing over her wailing son. He felt a little ashamed; his physical state aside, he was 19 years old and should have kept his temper.

When Dudley eventually calmed down, Petunia scolded Harry – _Really? Scolding a_ _ **baby**_ _?_ – for daring to hurt her "precious little angel".

Harry snorted, followed by a sneeze.

* * *

An old lady called Mrs Figg moved in further down the street that day, and offered to babysit the orphaned boy while Petunia left for a local housewives' meet-and-greet with her son.

Mrs Figg had three cats, which made Harry long to be in his parents' cottage with his mum's pet cat for a decade, Catherine. And playing with Sirius when he was in dog form.

* * *

That evening after Vernon returned from work, all four had dinner. Not much later on, Harry learned an interesting new titbit of information.

Bedrooms spooked him.

Vernon quickly lost his patience at "the little freak" crying anytime he was carried upstairs and getting especially panicky in the smallest bedroom (which was the only bedroom he was taken into).

Thus Harry got put into the cupboard under the stairs after a small mattress on a cot was added in there. It wasn't too bad, as long as he ignored what it actually was.

That night, Harry relived in broken snippets the loss of his family.

Unfortunately, the Dursleys were not very sympathetic. Petunia rocked him until he shut up though, so at least they were not heartless.

 _Hehe, Heartless…_ Harry thought, recalling his favourite videogame. His eyelids drooped shut and, too exhausted to even dream, he fell fast asleep.

* * *

Time passed very slowly for Harry. He was vaguely aware of himself and Dudley (who seemed more big-boned than him) getting slightly bigger with each passing month.

Since he was not allowed to play with Dudley's toys and none of his own had been delivered to the Dursleys with him (nor was there anything else that belonged to Harry, besides the blue blankets), the tiny teen entertained himself by remembering his favourite movies – including **every single** Disney and/or Pixar one – over and over or imagining himself having grand adventures like in the various 'Kingdom Hearts' and 'Final Fantasy' games.

Harry also discovered the Dursleys liked to pretend he was not there, so he decided to take advantage of this by running around the house playing Hide-from-Relatives any time he could get away before being put into the playpen for Dudley to kick at.

Another thing that helped pass the time was Petunia dropping Harry off at Mrs Figg's for a few hours each weekday so she had to spend less time watching him. The elderly woman was not too bad, but she was not particularly pleasant either. _I don't mind, though. We've both lost our loved ones_ , the mature-minded infant thought as he listened her stories.

* * *

It was official. Harry regained his hatred of Christmas.

His second one with the Potters had been wonderful, but an obese woman related to Vernon ruined his third Christmas in this reality by lamenting about what an inconvenience it must be to have an orphan dumped on you and how his parents were worthless drunks that shouldn't have gotten themselves killed in a car-crash.

 _My parents did NOT die in a car-crash!_ Harry thought, glaring at Petunia for the awful lie.

"Aha! See? The boy is a mean little runt. No doubt the parents' fault! Oh, nothing against your family, of course, Petunia dear. Bad eggs like your sister pop up in the best of families," the large woman whose name Harry didn't bother to remember said, waving the wine glass in her beefy hand a little.

The tiny teen would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't decided she was not worth the effort. _Honestly, how can Mum be related to Petunia? And whyyyy am I stuck with these bitchy people?_

He received the answer over a month later.

* * *

A couple days ago on January 30th, Petunia had glared at him with utter loathing and made Vernon (who did so very begrudgingly) do the necessary looking after while she very pointedly fussed over Dudley.

Today, Harry nicked Dudley's second plate of food when Vernon's back was turned and Petunia was putting a couple dirty plates into the kitchen sink. Why? Because the blond baby ate too much anyway, and Harry was still hungry. Not to mention the younger boy's tantrums got on his nerves.

Of course, Harry was immediately busted. He had expected to be yelled at. What he did **not** expect was Vernon going purple in the face and locking him up into the cupboard for the rest of the day.

When any cries for "Aun' Petunia" and "Unca Ve'non" yielded no results, the tiny teen decided to meditate (another way to pass the time). Well, it was mostly just rhythmic deep breathing.

He soon fell asleep.

That evening after dinner, Dudley kicked his mum wanting chocolate. To Harry's anger, neither of the little brat's parents told him off for it!

 _I shouldn't be surprised. This whole time, Dudley's the one running this household. Bloody imbeciles…_ Harry thought, scowling.

Some more screaming from Dudley when Petunia told him they did not have chocolate at the moment.

 _Stupid dud. Doesn't know how lucky he is to have parents._ Anger now started to really bubble in Harry's chest.

"It's okay, Popkin. Daddy will go buy you some chocolate," Petunia said to her son.

But the brat smacked her arm, demanding: "'OCOLE **NOW**!"

In an instant, the dining table exploded to smithereens.

Petunia screamed, shielding her son, Vernon turned purple in the face and yelled, and Harry ducked his head before looking at the destruction confusedly.

 _Did…_ _ **I**_ _do this…?_

"You little freak!" Vernon shouted, beady eyes glaring at his nephew. "You ruined our table!" Harry ignored the obese man as he kept shouting at the ravenette for twenty minutes straight.

Towards the end of his tirade, the doorbell rang.

Petunia, carrying Dudley, answered the front door. There was some yelling from her now, then she reluctantly returned with a tall old man (who, in his overtly-bright and too-colourful robes looked like he had escaped from a circus) in tow. His light gray beard was long enough to be tucked into his wide belt, and his hair matched it. Half-moon glasses with a golden frame perched on a nose that seemed to have been broken a long time ago.

The stranger pulled a 'chopstick' from his pocket and waved it, the dining table immediately flying back together. Vernon started yelling at the old man at the top of his lungs, until his expression turned vacant at the magic wand – What else could it be? – being pointed towards his face while "Obliviate" was said by the elderly wizard.

Petunia shrieked, then her expression too became vacant at the process being repeated.

In another reality, Harry had moved and looked at the wand in horror, wondering if he was going to become a zombie too and forget all about who he was as well as his past. And he **did**. Forget.

However, in **this** reality, the reincarnated teen looked away instead when thinking this. He busied himself with a plastic spoon, never noticing the old guy sigh sadly and murmur: "It is for the Greater Good." He cast a second spell, then left.

It did not take long for Harry to put two and two together when his relatives were still pissed at him for doing "something freakish" but couldn't remember the old guy's brief visit.

 _He made them forget he was here. … Holy cheesecake, my mind could be completely screwed!_

* * *

"Auntie 'Nia?" In his 'humble' opinion, Harry looked pretty damn adorable with wide eyes. Unfortunately, Petunia seemed to disagree.

"What do you want, Boy?" the blond snapped at the teenaged toddler.

"Pweath take me to the libwawy," he replied, cranking up the cuteness. His fingers were behind his back, crossed. ["Please take me to the library."]

"No." The curt answer was all Petunia would give him, and she returned to her current household task. It was lucky the bitter woman was too distracted to simply order him into the cupboard under the stairs, as was the Dursleys' habit whenever they were displease with him. (Unknown to Harry, the old man from two days ago had placed a Compulsion Charm on the couple to send their nephew into his bedroom to prevent him from being physically harmed. Not that the spell did any good...)

Pouting, Harry turned around and walked away. He dodged a cuff to the head from Vernon, whom had a bad (i.e. the usual) day at work, and hid in the bathroom. Using Dudley's stool, the tiny teen looked into the mirror above the sink. Scrutinizing his looks, Harry looked at his reflection with a depressed expression and softly sang:

 _"_ _Deception, disgrace..._

 _Evil as plain as the scar on my face._

 _Born in grief, raised in hate,_

 _Helpless to defy my fate._

 _Let me run, let me live._

 _But they won't forget what they cannot forgive..._

 _And I am_ _ **not**_ _one of them,_

 _I will never be part of them._

 _Just a freak I'm to them,_

 _That won't change but I'll try..._

 _Mum, Dad, I try to be strong._

 _But we know that I'll_ _ **never**_ _belong..."_

Blinking back tears, a sniffling Harry hid underneath the sink and hugged his knees before burying his small face against them.

* * *

The days were blurring together. End of winter, start of spring, end of spring, start of summer, and so on. Each day was the same – wake up, eat, hide from the Dursleys as much as can, meditate, draw, nap, practice writing own name (and other words that mean something to him, such as _'videogames', 'me', 'animals'_ , etc.), read any baby books can get hold of, and go to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Until Harry turned four and had to do chores every day. _The fudge? Making a toddler vacuum, set the table, and help hang the effing laundry?! These people are freaking morons!_

The tiny teen was lounging on his 'bed' in the cupboard at night as he thought of this. He looked at the pile of drawings (that looked like a six-year-old had drawn them) he had pulled out from under the mattress. One was of his parents, another of himself on Padfoot while James held him from falling, a picture of Harry being hugged by Lily, another of Remus (or what he remembered about him, at any rate), ditto Peter, and Sirius (except his had been crossed out with a big red X), a drawing of Prongs the stag, the Potters' living-room, James and Lily doing magic, and Harry as a teenager with his parents standing on each side next to him. There were plenty of other drawings too, involving characters from his favourite Disney movies and the Playstation 2 game series 'Kingdom Hearts', as well as sheets of handwritten lyrics of his favourite songs.

The ravenette pulled out a brand new, lime green, hardback, A5 notebook he had bought with a tiny bit of the money nicked off his relatives over the past two years. An older (physically) kid had helped him in exchange for getting to spend the rest of the £5 on whatever she wanted.

The Dursleys had suddenly received a monthly stipend ever since the strange wizard had visited, and so officially began spoiling Dudley; now no longer anxious about affording the best, Vernon's stress lessened and his reputation at work was apparently improving.

Harry opened the book and wrote, slowly and neatly, onto the inside of the front cover 'HADRIAN'S JOURNAL' in bright red. _There. Now I can keep record of stuff I want to remember._

On the first page, Harry wrote _'Note to self: Study for GCSEs and A-levels until old enough to sit the exams, and keep saving up money'_. He grimaced, thinking: _Being a teenager's not_ _ **too**_ _bad, but I dunno if it'll be worse this time around._

Harry hid his drawings, old writings much messier than what he had put in the notebook (curse the lacking fine motor skills of infants) and new journal underneath the mattress. He drifted off to sleep almost as soon as his head hit the small pillow.

* * *

Come morning, Vernon complained about his favourite topics – people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank and Harry – over breakfast. He was always complaining about something once or twice a day.

Life went on, Harry busy doing chores, pick-pocketing, and writing letters to his parents. That last one was because, although he knew perfectly well they would never actually receive them, it felt nice to connect to them in this small way.

Dudley began attending nursery in September, thus leaving Harry alone with Mrs Figg. He was always perfectly polite to the elderly woman, mentally complaining at how her house smelled of cabbage and she insisted on showing him photos of cats she had owned in the past. The cats were nice too, and Mrs Figg gave him a piece of stale chocolate cake. So the day was not a total loss.

Only one thought kept Harry going throughout the year that passed: _Can't wait for when I hit puberty and can leave those scumbags behind._

* * *

A.N.: So there we have it. Dumbles Obliviated the Dursleys so they couldn't demand he take Harry (as that could make the Blood Wards collapse, depending on the wording). Also, figured Dumbledore realized only after the visit that he'd forgotten to pass on money from the Trust Vault to Harry's 'family'. Hence Dudley being royally spoiled only after that.

I figured part of the jobless drunks thing was the Dursleys not getting a stipend for the first few months Harry had been with them. It also explains how Vernon, now not worrying about money and having a suitable target for his bad temper, will at some point earn a promotion as well as how they could afford to spend ridiculous amounts of money on Dudley.

No specialised Tracking Charm ala Deluminator until kid's unconscious in hospital wing First Year, though. Unless that does **not** happen in this story… :D

Word of warning, Harry is NOT a Gary Stu (male Mary-Sue). He is meant to be like canon Harry minus the meekness and with the desire to be accepted channelled differently. And if you were stuck indoors 24/7, you'd take any way possible to entertain yourself too. As for the pick-pocketing, I know kids who spend any small change they happen across on sweets regardless of who it belongs to, so figured it would be semi-normal for Harry to build up his own savings since the Dursleys sure as heck weren't buying him even the necessities like his own clothes.

P.S. I spell all abbreviations of things written with capital letters with a ..between each letter. TV & GCSE are the exceptions. Anything written without the dots – for example, "HELLO!" – is basically a shouted word. Hope ya got that!


	4. B1 Chapter 4

**Chapter 4. Magical Metamorphmagus**

* * *

Watching his relatives interact lovingly one afternoon several weeks after Dudley started at nursery, Hadrian 'Harry' Evans felt a pang in his chest at the thought of his own family.

 _I can't stand this. I need something to distract me._

His mind made up, Harry slipped out the kitchen door and sat down at the backyard behind an old shed his relatives used for storage. He meditated for over an hour.

In the end, Harry reached a deep state in meditation which he had only gotten to **once** before. He 'looked' at a colourful, pulsing energy ball in the middle of a sea of blackness with great concern, for there were half a dozen thin, blood red shackles (made by several strange markings) going over it. Yet his instincts told him this was all right. "What the hell…?"

Harry looked them over, noting that the markings reminded him of what Lily had drawn two (in a week, three) years ago. "Could these be Runes too?"

The ravenette shrugged, deciding to worry about the shackles later. He pulled on his magic, willing it to travel through him. It did. "At least those things don't stop me from using Magic."

Not knowing what else to do, Harry guided the bit of Magic to move down his arms. _I know it's not_ _ **ki**_ _energy, but this is a starting point at least._ The tiny teen slowly opened his eyes, still holding onto the Magic. He moved his hands a bit so that they were cupped, then focused on the image of a light sphere.

Thin tendrils of white energy flowed from his fingertips to between his palms, forming a very miniscule ball of yellow light. "Yes!"

But the instant Harry's concentration slipped a fraction, the ball dissipated and there were several small bangs inside Number 4. All of the light bulbs had just exploded.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, smiling sheepishly. "Oops." Standing up, the miniature teen decided he should find elsewhere to practice.

Never knowing the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad popped by and thought, as did Vernon and Petunia, that his cousin's tantrum had been the cause.

* * *

None of the residents of Privet Drive saw a tiny figure in ridiculously baggy, denim overalls and yellow T-shirt dart from one bush to the next.

* * *

At a local kiddie park, Harry sat underneath a tree. Its leaves had long started to turn shades of brown, yellow and orange, about to fall. _Since the light thing was a bust, maybe I can start with making enough wind to have a leaf float?_

The ravenette slowed his breathing and kept his hands on his knees, light emerald eyes still open. He tried to meditate without his usual position to see if he could access his magic like that.

Harry found it, though this time he only sensed the energy hidden inside him rather than see it. And knowing the shackles were there, the tiny teen could tell the difference between them and his own. He got two foreign sensations from the shackles, one feeling full of safety that reminded him of being held by his mother but the other unknown.

Harry again slowly willed a bit of his Magic to travel from the core up to his shoulder (this time only the right one) and down his arm. He guided it to come out of his fingertips, seeing the wisps were now an incredibly pale purple in colour. The little boy directed them to around one of the fallen leaves, then gently pushed the Magic underneath it. The leaf moved up a fraction, then dropped again. Harry's power had dispelled from under it, lifting the leaf having felt kind of like picking up a big, highly heavy book yet not quite.

The ravenette wiped beads of sweat from his brow, then tried again but with his left hand. Same result, though it felt a tiny bit harder.

 _Maybe I should imagine Aero while doing this… And teach myself how to use the spell without lifting anything at first._

Harry spent the entire week doing just that at any chance he got, attempting to create a small breeze from his outstretched hand with his fingers spread out. Pretending he was Aang from a cool TV show named 'Avatar: The Last Airbender' dancing with soft steps in a tranquil forest amongst falling leaves certainly helped…

Eventually, as the Sun was setting, he could do it with ease – holding his hand towards the leaf with his fingers spread out while thinking: _Wind!_

The leaf was pushed back by a very weak breeze that seemingly appeared out of nowhere and dissipated just as fast as it came. Harry grinned, flopping down onto the grass in exhaustion. _Just a quick nap…_

For the rest of November, Harry practiced using Aero in his cupboard and especially at the backyard (it was too cold and he was too young to go into the kiddie park again). By the final night of the month, doing so with a very tiny gust of wind as a result felt like second nature.

Harry moved on to using Aero to lift leaves. It took two more months before his control was good enough to start the wind underneath a leaf and make it float to eyelevel from the ground. When he finally succeeded in this with minimal error, the messy-haired boy jumped up and down laughing giddily.

* * *

"Fire!" Harry said firmly, hand outstretched to the side. Earlier–

 ** _Harry tried to recall Zuko's lessons to Aang in 'Avatar: The Last Airbender' while looking at a drawing of the two firebenders._** **Something about the Sun…**

He was getting nowhere. Encouraged by success at doing Wind (which was what he liked to call Aero unofficially), the kid had spent the first couple days of February trying to learn Fire.

To his dismay, that was easier said than done. Not to mention those horrid chores he had to do every day severely limited his time to practice.

"C'mon! **Fire**!" Nope, not even smoke. Frustrated, Harry stamped his foot in true four-year-old fashion.

* * *

Days, weeks, months had passed since that day Harry used Magic for the very first time consciously. Aero grew to Aerora – a larger gust of wind strong enough to push Harry off his feet when he first used it.

The tiny teen lay in his cupboard wearing Dudley's old pyjamas, looking at a childish drawing of Gohan from the anime 'Dragon Ball Z'. He started softly singing his version of a Disney song, placing the picture into a worn pillow case before hiding it under his cot.

 _"Maybe Hide-and-Seek,_

 _If I got time to spare;_

 _I think I'll draw some more,_

 _There's surely room somewhere;_

 _An' I'll sketch and sketch_

 _And miss_ _ **my**_ _parents,_

 _Wondering when will my life begin._

 _And I'll keep wondering and wondering and wondering and wondering_

 _When will my life begin…"_

Harry sighed sadly, shifting to lay on his side with his small hands under his head. He closed his eyes, meditating again to feel his Magic. "I miss Mum and Dad…"

A sensation of being hugged yet not actually covered him like a blanket, and Harry sleepily smiled in content for the rest of the night.

* * *

After Sunrise, Harry tried to use his Magic to change objects' colours. He started by holding a pencil, that had been snapped by Dudley at some point but he'd managed to salvage, while meditating.

Drawing on the energy inside himself like before, Harry guided it to travel into his fingertips again and from there to the pencil. He mentally saw nothing but red.

His eyes fluttered open. Looking down, the mature toddler grinned so widely it was a wonder his face did not split in half.

* * *

The smile was soon off his face. Aunt Marge, as the reincarnated teen was forced to call the horrible sibling to his uncle-by-marriage, was going to come on Dudley's 5th birthday in mid-June. Harry shuddered when he found that out today, doubling his efforts in becoming connected to his Magic. It could not be completely controlled though, feeling somewhat sentient.

Now used to his Magic, the kid was very determined at trying to learn how to keep the Dursleys from noticing him. He started with trying to make one of the kitchen chairs unnoticeable.

Unfortunately, luck was not on Harry's side. But thankfully, Marge wanted to get back to her dogs and did not stay beyond the 'special day'.

Harry spent the rest of summer involuntarily gardening for Petunia. And practicing Colour-Change on broken pencils as well as the stronger version of Wind whenever he got nowhere with the Notice-Me-Not.

* * *

Finally, on August 26th 1985 (and wasn't it a shock to discover the year wasn't 2021), Harry was dropped off at primary school by Petunia. What a relief it was to get away from the house!

To his dismay, Dudley was in his class along with some ratty-looking kid almost as scrawny as Harry himself, named Piers Polkiss. They were best friends if the birthday party had been any indication. Probably went to the same nursery…

When roll was called, Harry told Miss Burch (who wore a dark green trench coat even indoors) that his surname was Evans and not Potter.

"Don't lie, boy! It says here you are Harry James Potter," the heavyset woman – not obese like Vernon and his sister, just sturdily built – retorted. Her mud brown hair was up in a bun at the back of her head. "Your aunt told me all about how horrid you are."

 _My name is_ _ **Harry**_ _, not Horrid Henry…_ the ravenette thought with a deadpan expression, then scowled. _Fuck you, Miss Bitch._

Miss Burch turned out to be a strict and mean teacher. One kid got reduced to tears by her!

Break and lunch, Harry talked to a few of his classmates explaining the things they had learnt that morning (ABCs and numbers up to 5) to them. Dudley tried to scare the other kids off with Piers' and a couple other boys' help. But Harry imagined himself pushing the blond away, and next thing he knew that was exactly what happened. _HUH?!_

A teacher who wasn't Miss Burch came over. Thanks to his classmates, Harry was believed when he sincerely said he had not touched Dudley.

 _In your face, tubby!_

After school, Harry slipped away from his Aunt as soon as she, Harry and Dudley were beside the car – he was surely going to be punished tonight for the Accidental Magic, anyway. The messy-haired kid bought soft back A5 notebooks with an older boy's help. They went into his backpack for later use.

Harry wrote in his Journal a short note of the weird incident where he pushed Dudley without touching the bullying boy.

The ravenette grinned as he packed away his stuff, planning on finding a better hiding place for the lyrics, drawings and Journal.

* * *

Something strange happened on September 2nd 1985. He had been taken to the barber's by Petunia. Only for the thick, untameable mess of hair that stuck up in downward spikes at the back and was tufty at the front to grow back **exactly** how it had been by the time it was late evening.

So the next day when school was over, Harry ended up going to the barber's again. And again. And **again** , until he had gone nine times in just two weeks.

Petunia, tired of her nephew (not that she ever acknowledged him as such, only seeing Harry as a freak like her sister had become in their youth) coming back looking as though he had not been at all, told him to sit down on a chair in the kitchen on Thursday after school.

Harry did so, looking wary. _Can't be good._

The unkind woman took a pair of kitchen scissors out of a drawer. Harry gulped, silently wondering if he should run for it.

"Stay still," Petunia snapped, then proceeded to cut off all the hair. By the end, it was so short Harry looked bald, save for his fringe.

The blond stepped back, looking at him critically with pursed lips. "I shall leave it to hide that horrible scar."

Dudley laughed at Harry, until he noticed the smaller boy's eyes flashing dangerously. The brat sobered and left to watch TV, though he was still smirking meanly.

Harry spent the night imagining various ways to torture the Dursleys and how the other kids were going to react. His popularity was already shaky thanks to the hand-me-downs he was forced to wear and his shoddy glasses.

(A teacher had noticed Harry squinting when he looked at something, and yesterday suggested Petunia get him glasses. She had done so very reluctantly, while Harry silently wondered if his reading and writing were the cause of his worsened vision or had he inherited it from his dad. _Probably both._ The round-rimmed glasses were held together by Sellotape, courtesy of Dudley punching him in the face repeatedly today at school thus breaking the black frame in two.)

 _I seriously dislike the Dursleys._

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke up to find his hair had gone back to normal overnight.

The Dursleys were less than impressed by this "freakishness".

Harry gingerly stood up, having been helpless as Vernon had thrice kicked him in the hallway in a fit of rage while Petunia fussed over Dudley in the kitchen. _I'm probably bruised all over. Fucking bastards…_

The miniature teenager dragged himself into the bathroom, having been told to make himself look presentable. It did not occur to Harry that he should go to school looking like this and report what had happened.

He lifted his Dudley-sized school uniform jumper and white, short-sleeved blouse, seeing bruises that were already going purple/blue on his midsection and chest. Harry winced, slowly putting the clothes on. He looked in the mirror and, after straightening his uniform and wiping imaginary dust off, he did not outwardly appear to be hurt in the least.

Frowning, Harry thought back to how strangely his hair had been acting. He closed his eyes and imagined himself with bright yellow hair.

His scalp tingled.

When he looked in the mirror, Harry saw his hair colour had **changed**.

Excited by this discovery, the tiny teen experimented by turning his hair all colours of the rainbow (indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, red, pink and purple). He then made it go back to jet-black.

Harry could not contain the wide grin. He cackled madly then hopped up and down with a giddy look on his face and his fists pressed against his chin, too overjoyed to heed the pain he was in at all.

"Boy! Hurry up!" Vernon bellowed, bringing the 5-year-old out of his excitement.

Harry quickly flushed the toilet to give the illusion he had used it, then came out. He grabbed his backpack from the cupboard, put on worn sneakers and followed Dudley to Vernon's car.

Sitting alone at the back, the teen toddler smirked. _I'm sooo gonna make the most of this talent!_

* * *

After school, with a joyful smile and a bounce in his step, Harry exited the building as fast as he could. After turning his thick hair the exact same shade of dark red his mother's had been, Harry spent the afternoon just walking around Surrey, at one point buying a burger and chips for his dinner with money he had nicked from Petunia's purse yesterday (he managed to trick the cashier into thinking the auburn-haired woman standing at the door was his aunt).

When night had long fallen, Harry turned his hair back to its original colour as he set off for Privet Drive. Once at Number 4, the 'shape-shifter' picked the backdoor's lock and snuck in, tiptoeing through the kitchen into the hallway.

 _O.K., I can either go into the 'room' my pathetic excuses for relatives gave me or I can sneak into the guestroom to hide._ Harry stood there for a minute, then crept up the stairs (remembering to avoid the creaky step). _Guestroom it is._

* * *

Harry woke up to the sound of Dudley loudly complaining about their teacher setting homework for the weekend.

 _Gotta get outta here!_ The twice-orphaned boy had no intention of staying to be yelled at. Quickly, the half-naked five-year-old slipped off the bed and re-dressed in his oversized primary school uniform (his relatives never bought him anything of his own, only providing Harry with Dudley's old clothes). It took several tries, but eventually the jumper changed from a dull blue to a nice forest green.

He snuck downstairs as quietly as he could (wincing at the creaky step), turned his hair caramel brown in colour and exited the house.

Harry took a detour on his way to the local kiddie park, entering the nearest supermarket with the intention to buy some fruit for his breakfast (successfully pretending to be a random old guy's 8-year-old grandson).

Sitting on the swings, Harry read while crunching down on apples. His hair had turned back to its original raven colour. Once his stomach was full, the little boy hopped off the swing and walked around the playground.

Harry spotted a girl from his class nearby. She had curly, chocolate hair pulled in two small pigtails in a hopeless attempt to tame the unruly locks. The brunette was playing Hopscotch with two others, so he walked over to where the girls were gathered around the recently-drawn squares and asked if he could join in.

"Sure! Emma, Lottie, this is Harry Potter. We're in the same class," Maya said with a friendly smile, gesturing from her classmate to her friends from nursery. Her mother (judging from the matching cerulean blue eyes and freckles) briefly glanced up from where she was reading a fashion magazine at the nearest metallic-and-wooden bench.

Emma frowned at the hand-me-downs Harry had on, stating uncertainly: "He looks weird."

"Yeah," Lottie agreed with a nod, then scrunched up her nose. "And he's a **boy**. They have cooties."

"No, we don't," Harry protested, crossing his arms and pouting. Which he stopped the instant he realized what he was doing.

Maya looked anxiously between her three friends. "Harry's a really nice boy. Not like booger-Kevin or that meanie Piers. **And** Harry helped me do good at school yesterday. Pleeease?"

Lottie smiled at once. "Otay. If you're **sure** he don't have cooties." Maya nodded, so she grinned at Harry. He grinned back.

It took a few more minutes to convince Emma, who had heard from a neighbour (who had heard from his parents) that Harry Potter was a no-good troublemaker, but soon the four were laughing, having fun.

After playing Hopscotch and Tag, Harry went to do all of his homework at the top of the slide in twenty minutes (Miss Burch had no problem giving her students a pile of worksheets to complete by next Monday). Then he ate an orange for a snack, and wandered off again.

Harry briefly visited the library to read more of 'Oliver Twist', but did not dare get his own library card yet.

Once darkness had long fallen, Harry snuck into Number 4 again. The now-brunette took some of the sweets Dudley had left in his second room and ate them quickly.

He did not dare go into the guest room again, certain two nights in a row would be really pushing it. _Especially since the Dursleys are bound to be pissed,_ Harry thought as he came downstairs. He blinked fast to hold back the frustrated tears, clenching his little hands into fists.

With an odd combination of rebelliousness and defeat, the last Potter entered his cupboard.

* * *

Sunday passed surprisingly quickly, considering how busy Harry was with punishment chores all day. His stomach growled loudly as he sat on his cot in the cupboard under the stairs, sighing weakly and leaning against the wall.

The next five days, Harry kept doodling or daydreaming and discreetly tutoring the 5-year-olds during lessons, spending breaks being carefree by playing. Afternoons he would do his homework as well as go read fun fact and fiction books in the library, generally having a good time.

He kept making his hair colour different for each afternoon, going from the caramel brown of last Saturday to chocolate brown on Monday. Followed by bright red on Tuesday and snow-blonde on Wednesday, with his hair golden blonde on Thursday and caramel again on Friday. At night, he amused himself by making it some absurd colour like neon pink, fluorescent orange, lime green and so on.

Harry only returned to Privet Drive for 8 hours of rest, hiding from his relatives anywhere in the house he could during the early evening and at night until they had fallen asleep. At which he would then slip into the cupboard or under Dudley's bed to sleep. It felt **very** uncomfortable to be in such a small space, emotionally far more than physically.

* * *

One day towards the start of October, Harry unintentionally turned his teacher's hair aquamarine when he got scolded in front of the other kids for doing his own thing instead of paying attention to the lesson.

 ** _Highly developed he may be intellectually, Harry still was a_** _child_ _ **.**_

 ** _Angry at being humiliated for entertaining himself to ease the boredom, Harry gritted his teeth and clenched his fists to prevent himself from screaming at his teacher._**

 ** _Magic being responsive to emotion, the ravenette found his frustration be replaced by astonishment at the change in Miss Burch's hair colour._**

Naturally, Dudley blabbed the second Petunia had closed the front door behind them. Her expression went from surprised to I-swallowed-a-lemon so fast Harry took a nervous step back.

Petunia opened the note she had been given by the teacher, her lips practically disappearing with how hard they were pressed together. She took Harry by the ear and dragged him into the living-room. Letting go, she pointed at the sofa and ordered: " **Sit** ** _._** "

Harry obeyed, rubbing his hurting ear. He shot snickering Dudley a glare that nearly made the blond wet himself.

Petunia fussed over Dudley, giving him a snack (all the while glaring at Harry to make it clear he wasn't getting any of his usual food scraps today) and sending the toddler into his bedroom for a nap when his Friday TV-shows ended. Vernon came home around then, and (after exchanging familial greetings with his wife and son) wondered aloud in surprise at Harry sitting like a statue on the sofa. Petunia told him about the incident.

And so the boy – _Really? I'm 'Boy'?_ Harry thought sarcastically in amusement – was to vacuum every room's floor in the house on Saturday (more than once, considering Dudley delighted in making more of a mess for Harry to clean) and go without food for the whole weekend, as punishment for the "freakishness"

* * *

Exactly two and a half months had gone by since school started, before the Dursleys could not see the chair unless they bumped into it. And even then they immediately forgot about it.

 _Perfect!_ Harry thought, smirking triumphantly. He had practiced the spell on himself too, but most focus had been on the chair. The small teen crossed his arms, easily feeling the Magic thrumming inside him as he thought: _Dursleys, don't notice me; Dursleys, don't notice me; do NOT notice me!_

Wisps of amber-tinted invisible waves reminiscent of heat washed over Harry yet clung to him.

Next he tested it out by walking right into the kitchen where Vernon and Dudley were pigging out on and Petunia eating their dinner. Harry found it hilarious when the Dursleys had recently been clueless without him to clean, do the laundry and tend to the gardens. They managed to eventually figure it out, but not without many arguments and Dudley tantrums. The overweight boy's difficulties in doing school work and Vernon starting to lose his temper at work again were not helping any.

 _Ah well, not my problem,_ Harry thought, taking a seat at the table. None of the Dursleys paid any attention to him. "Daddy's a walrus." The second the words left him, Harry sat perfectly still.

Vernon stopped and looked up from his food. He glanced around with his beady eyes, but saw nothing out of the ordinary and so resumed eating.

"Mummy's mean."

Petunia looked at her son, hurt in her eyes. "Dudley, did you say something?"

The pig-nosed blond looked up from his food confusedly. "No, Mummy."

The thin woman smiled in relief.

Harry carefully snuck out of the kitchen, once a safe distance away bursting into giggles befitting his physical age. "That was fun. Now for the room..."

Besides achieving Notice-Me-Not, Harry had also managed to learn better control over his 'hair-changing ability' by now. He was capable of making the untameable locks lay flat or even curl.

 _Seems like, finally, my life begins…_

* * *

A.N.: Hadrian Evans was born 1997, and died 2016. Hence thinking the year should have been 2021.

Riddle, as a kid of 11, was able to use a Wandless Compulsion Charm to make others "tell the truth", move objects with his mind (which I assumed was either a Wandless Wingardium Leviosa or a Wandless Summoning Charm and Banishing Charm), control animals to do his bidding, and cause horrible pain to other kids (don't know anything other than Crucio, but I doubt it was that) – plus was said to be very powerful for his age by Dumbledore. So, hopefully Harry's progress (ONLY 3 spells) isn't far-stretched.

P.S. For those wondering about Harry's thoughts on Dumbledore, he is wary of the old coot but doesn't fully remember the visit beyond knowing his mind is at risk. And the incident where Harry got kicked is a reference to canon line "stamp it out of him".


	5. B1 Chapter 5

**Chapter 5. Teleportation Complications**

* * *

Winter. Spring. Summer. Autumn.

All four seasons went by since that day he'd succeeded in using his Notice-Me-Not spell shortly after Halloween, Harry slowly but surely getting better control of his power and walking around Surrey much more freely with meddlesome grown-ups never noticing a 5-6 years old child whom was without adult supervision. Playing with Maya and her two friends or some of the boys in his class every day at the kiddie park was no longer risky either. He even managed to get his very own library card for his 6th birthday!

His (second) first year of school had been a mixed experience. The Dursleys tried to force Harry do Dudley's homework for him back near the end of September 1985 when it became apparent that their son was a little slower than his peers. But the slip of a boy point-blank refused to do so (earning over a week of staying in his cupboard and a ton of extra chores when not in school, to his horror); but after all of Harry's avoidance of the Dursleys thanks to staying outside and at Mrs Figg's as much as possible, they reconsidered. Although, Harry pointing out he could tell the staff about Dudley cheating and easily prove it may have been what really put them off the thought…

The other kids liked him a lot because of his cheeriness and help, but Dudley scared them. Thankfully, Harry standing his ground and using long words to confuse the overweight boy and other bullies earned the ravenette his peers' respect, making him the most popular kid in school despite the hand-me-downs and Sellotaped glasses.

This popularity carried on even as the second year at Stonewall Primary began.

One day in class shortly after the end of summer, 6-year-old Harry tinkered with a piece of aluminium wire he had found on the way to school that morning. He bent the wire to hold five emerald glass-pieces (which he had taken from the kitchen bin at Nr 4 some time ago and had been shaping into petals ever since) together so that the whole thing looked like a green flower or star. _Hopefully I'll find a way to make 'em stick together and not be easy to break._

 _This is gonna be my very own good-luck charm._

* * *

Harry was not happy. Not happy **at all**. He had found out, when laying on the living room floor watching TV with Dudley (not that the bigger-sized boy realized he had company) and reading an A-level Physics book he had borrowed from the local library, when Vernon announced that Aunt Marge was coming to visit again at Christmas. Which was in TWO DAYS.

The evil – at least in Harry's opinion – excuse for a woman was Vernon's sister. They could pass for twins, as far as the tiny teen was concerned. Only, Marge Dursley was actually **worse** than her brother. Where Vernon would shout, Marge would be spitefully indignant. Where Vernon would lock him in the cupboard under the stairs without food, Marge would complain cruelly about Harry's parents while not letting the child leave her line of sight. Where Vernon might thump him a bit in his worst fit of anger, Marge wanted to take a freakin' cane to him!

Long story short, Harry may have found life with the three Dursleys tolerable thanks to Magic but he certainly **loathed** Marge Dursley.

Having to take the Notice-Me-Not off just added to the cloud of misery. Life inside Number 4 was FANTASTIC now. Harry could draw an improved version of the old drawings uninterrupted while reminiscing over them, read books borrowed from the local library, play with his peers, or do the small amounts of Magick he had learned all while inside his **very own** bedroom. He was well on his way to adding colourful but simple patterns to plain paper with Magic and even producing Light Orbs without blowing up any of the light bulbs!

So no, having to take the Notice-Me-Not off the Dursleys did not please him in the least.

When the dreaded day arrived, Harry cancelled the Charm on each relative but left the one on his bedroom; in fact, he renewed it – just in case. The short boy changed from his blue-chequered buttoned-up shirt, the white T-shirt underneath and denim blue jeans into more worn, oversized (for himself) clothes that some time ago used to be Dudley's, then rushed into the kitchen and made a point of wiping the countertops.

Petunia came into the kitchen, looked at him and told him to make himself useful.

 _Stupid Dursleys…_

* * *

Marge was as horrible as always, verbally abusing Harry with spiteful comments in-between fussing over Dudley and talking to her brother and sister-in-law.

Her new bulldog, Ripper, was a right little beast as mean-spirited as his obese owner. Bloody excuse for a mongrel (Marge would surely smack him if she heard her 'pedigree dog' referred to as such out loud) went and chased the little 'shape-shifter' up a tree in the backyard.

Of course, the thing's owner found this amusing and refused to call him back. The rest of the Dursleys were snickering (Dudley), neutral (Petunia) or offering Marge more wine (Vernon).

 _Happy holidays!_ Harry thought sarcastically, stuck in the tree.

* * *

Harry was massively relieved once school resumed halfway the first week of January 1987. Now he could get back to playing with and tutoring the other kids at school. Not to mention being away from Marge was **always** a huge plus. She was sticking around for a couple more days, though… Oh well, the better to stick with his companions/unofficial students – they weren't true friends, since he was a lot more mature for some reason and couldn't relate to the other kids well – after school was over for the day. Harry was going to have fun!

Dudley very strongly disagreed with him. "I d-don't wanna go! I want-t to stay h-home with you an' Daddy an' Auntie Marge!" Harry honestly could not tell, for once, whether the tears were genuine or the usual crocodile tears.

He tried to meditate a bit while walking to drown out the blond's tantrum, instead mentally holding onto the good feeling he had woken up with that morning despite having slept in the cupboard under the stairs once again. He put one of the spiders into a glass jar though, since he figured the other kids might be interested in seeing it. And he could teach them about spiders while he was at it.

The occasional mini-tutoring sessions on a break or during a lesson had become ridiculously popular. The secrecy from teachers made the whole thing exciting for the six to seven years old children, and Harry's mixed mentality made it easy for him to explain everything in ways the kids will understand therefore making the teaching process easier. For Harry, it was fun as well as refreshing to teach, seeing as he hoped to do a Childcare Course in college and studying for O-levels – which he had for some reason expected to be called GCSEs, strange enough – and A-levels from borrowed library books constantly by yourself was boring.

Harry rolled his eyes when he saw Dudley whine to Petunia. _Honestly, it's your own fault he is like this. What kind of a parent spoils their kid all the while abusing another, semi-directly teaching the kid to treat people horribly? And I'm pretty sure Dudley was a little monster even before I got left on the doorstep by Old Coot._ After the elderly wizard's visit a few years ago, it had not been hard to put two and two together.

Harry sighed, smiling in a carefree manner befitting his physical age. _Ah, well... Not my problem._

* * *

He raced straight through a group of bigger kids and passed a small bunch of his classmates, heading for the school building. It would be easy to lose a surprisingly fast Dudley (who had decided to take his anger out on Harry, no surprises there) and his thugs-in-training once inside.

Or just get out of their reach; whichever came first.

However, to Harry's shock as much as anyone else's, next thing he knew he was sitting on top of the school's chimneys!

He felt like he was going to vomit, the sudden feeling of sickness not helped in the least by the heights. There was yelling from the witnesses, and the caretaker came to fetch Harry (who quite liked the view, even if he was terrified of falling off the building and breaking his neck) down from there. The grownups were **not** impressed at all.

On the plus side, Harry's classmates told them what had happened. The supervising teacher, Mr Pearson (whom was fairer than Miss Burch; Harry was sure the hag of a woman saw any signs of abuse as part of a proper upbringing), believed them. He and Dudley got detention, but Harry gleefully gloated out of the teachers' range of hearing using words that went way over Dudley's head.

Snickering, the little 'magician' walked out of the school building.

All amusement ended when he saw Vernon and Marge waiting at the school gate. Glancing over his shoulder, Harry saw Mr Pearson (who had supervised the detention) watching. _Well, shite._

* * *

The 6-year-old was sent straight into his cupboard with no meals for the rest of the day. This was actually a big relief, considering Marge was all for caning him.

Harry meditated again. Once he felt perfectly calm and clear-headed, the strange child straightened his Sellotaped glasses before taking out the A5 book from its usual hiding spot whenever Harry kept it with him (underneath his shirt) and opened it. Harry flicked through the introduction, the Magick notes, the health tips, and the foreign languages notes he had written over time. Then backtracked to a blank page amongst the section for his 'special powers'.

He drew a small icon of an open book and a wand in the page's upper left corner, wrote _'MAGIC'_ underneath it in tiny letters and titled the page as _'Teleportation'_. Harry then quickly wrote the date, what had happened and everything he now noticed about the incident.

Next Harry wrote the subtitle, _'Theory A'_. He rubbed his nose with an index finger, wracking his brain for any clues other than what was already in the book.

The minutes ticked by.

Eventually, Harry got bored. _Urgh, I can't think of anything!_

He hid the Journal underneath a loose floorboard in his bedroom and came back into the cupboard to lay down on the cot to fitfully rest.

* * *

The next week dawned with clear skies. Harry made a flavoured omelette for himself and poured a small bowl of cereal with cold milk, then silently went upstairs to eat in his room. Immediately after Vernon returned from dropping his sister off yesterday, the little 'shape-shifter' had reapplied the Notice-Me-Not on each Dursley.

Done with his breakfast, Harry took his Journal out from under his black T-shirt. He looked at the short notes on his _'Savings'_ page with a pleased smile, having nicked a grand total of much more than £2000 in the past four painfully long years spent at Number 4. _At this rate, I can totally move out when I'm 16!_

Harry flicked back the pages until he came to the Journal's inner front cover and the profile page. He laid it on his lap. The kid spent twenty minutes drawing a four-pointed star as well as carefully colouring it red, blue, green and yellow. He added N for North, S for South, E for East and W for West in black, ignoring Dudley's loud complaints muffled by the closed door and Vernon's reprimands. Ever since another talk at parents' evening (for which Harry had removed the Notice-Me-Not from his relatives, of course), Dudley had been babied by his mother like always but once again confronted by his father for the abysmal performance. Truth be told, Vernon did **not** want to believe the teachers any more than Petunia did, but the facts were hard to deny without a convenient scapegoat like a freakish nephew.

The little boy soon came out of his rather plain bedroom, backpack with him as always and yanking on his favoured purple T-shirt over the crimson shirt he had been wearing. He had already pulled Dudley's old denim jeans over his new light grey shorts with their dark crimson pockets holding a couple pens and other small items. Once downstairs, Harry put on his hooded dark green coat and slipped white sneakers with teal straps onto his bare feet. Then he left the house for the local library with a book on animals (which Harry loved) tucked under his arm so he could return it.

And borrow books on the basics of Arabic and Greek since he had already done French, Spanish and Japanese in the past year – Harry had no idea why, but he liked learning different languages; something about that just felt familiar for some reason – as well as renew the secondary school books he had borrowed almost a month ago. Being able to change his hair sure was useful…

Harry shivered, dimpled cheeks reddening more than usually at the cold mid-January air. He thought back to his Accidental 'Teleportation' at school, which he had puzzled over on and off throughout the past month. In the Journal, written down was the first theory he had come up with – _'visualizing the place I want to go'_ – regarding the useful skill.

January 18th 1986 passed peacefully for Harry as he kept reading in the local library until closing time. The afternoon and early evening were spent attempting to Magically fix a couple of Dudley's old broken toys so he could sell them to the other kids, but that was tough and so frustrated him to no end every time those things either blew up or (two weeks later) rearranged themselves completely wrong.

Gazing at the night sky on his way back to Privet Drive at the end of that regular week, Harry smiled wistfully. He found the Canis Major constellation with his eyes, thinking sadly: _Padfoot…_

Although now only remembering a laughing face and mischievous grey eyes, as well as a big black dog, the twice-orphan still remembered his parents and this friend of theirs. True, his name probably wasn't actually Padfoot, but it was nice to think of him. Harry knew his parents had had two other friends, but of these he remembered nothing besides that they had been male and were called Moon and Worm, or something along those lines.

Shaking his head a bit to snap out of it, Harry refocused on attempting Teleportation. He meditated, then just lay there foggily recalling the Organization members in two videogames that apparently did not exist (the drawings and scribbled story-notes were a big help here). Focusing on the mental images, the small teen imagined himself doing the same for the fun of it.

 _Hey, maybe that_ _ **could**_ _work! I never visualized getting to the school's roof, so that first theory might not work. … OK, I'll try this one first and then Theory A._

Harry felt his power coursing through him as his imagination ran with the idea. _I want to go elsewhere._ Next thing he knew, his stomach felt to be filled with a horde of butterflies – very different from the nauseating feeling of being squeezed through a tube, though still unpleasant – and everything went dark.

* * *

Godric's Hollow was a very old and venerated magical community.

After all, everybody wanted to live there and be buried in the same cemetery that contained so many Ancient and Noble Houses; even the Muggles loved the idyllic village despite the tragedies over four years ago. It was almost impossible to find anyone that lived in Godric's Hollow willing to sell, and it was considered prime real estate.

A raven pecked at the ground before the front steps of a destroyed cottage that had been left to ruins as a 'memento' to the Potters' sacrifice. Truth be told, people were just too afraid of going in there and rebuilding it.

Suddenly, black swirls tinted with very dark purple appeared from nowhere. The raven let out a cry and flapped its wings, flying away at the darkness condensing into an egg- before revealing a child and vanishing just as fast. All within a few blinks.

Harry blinked, looking around in confusion. "Where…?" His eyes widened in realization. "Holy cheesecake, it WORKED!" The 6-year-old slapped his hands over his mouth, but thankfully no-one seemed to have heard him.

Taking out his Journal, he at once wrote down first _'Theory B'_ and then the details of what just happened as well as a note that it works.

Once finished, Harry put it back into his backpack with a grin. "Wow. Not quite a Corridor of Darkness, but similar to it. What to call it, though? … Those bits of darkness were in one of those stories I drew ages ago too. But I don' think there was an official name for it. … Kinda reminds me of a shadow. Shadow… That's it! **Shadow** -Teleport!"

Harry stood up and danced a quick jig, overjoyed.

Feeling familiar Magick thrumming around himself, he stopped. Harry glanced around with an expression of wonder on his little heart-shaped face. "Mum…? Dad…?"

* * *

Months passed since that night he actually succeeded in Shadow-Teleporting for the very first time and rediscovered his former home's ruins. After much frustration during nearly all of that time, Harry **finally** accomplished Repairing paper with his Magic (having put thoughts of moving large distances in the blink of an eye out of his mind for now to concentrate on one spell at a time).

It took a week more to do the same with one of Dudley's old toys. He sold it to a fellow St Grogory's student at a very low price, asking him to spread the word.

"'Course, Hal! Man, my little brother will love this teddy bear. It's the perfect birthday gift," the kid replied, and walked off with the seemingly brand new teddy (which Harry had washed before fixing) tucked under his left arm. "Bye!"

So started the _'E.P. Sales'_ at the local park, where brand new stuff could be bought at ridiculously low prices every Sunday afternoon.

* * *

The day after, Harry woke up to his alarm clock (Dudley's old one which he had used Repair on after fixing the first ever toy he had sold) ringing underneath his big pillow. Not even realizing today was his 7th birthday.

He jerked awake, sat up and looked around with bleary eyes. He shut them tight, then opened them slowly while reaching under the pillow to turn the alarm off. Harry yawned, putting his other hand over his mouth.

And promptly smacked his face onto the pillow. _Slee-eep!_

Eventually, Harry dragged himself out of bed when he smelled Petunia making breakfast (for the Dursleys, naturally). He walked around the untidy room in checkered grey boxers, scratching his head as he looked for his favourite clothes still half-asleep.

Harry came out of his room and stood perfectly still as Dudley hurried past him, eager for food as always. He followed the blond at a calmer pace. Harry carefully piled some sandwiches onto a plate and carried it upstairs along with a glass of apple juice. Harry returned for a small bowlful of cereal soaked in cold milk.

Once finished with breakfast, Harry put on his sneakers, leaving Number 4 while Dudley complained loudly about summer school in the living-room. _Guess he didn't take Vernon's ultimatum at all well._

No longer having an easy target for his anger, Vernon had taken to snapping at Dudley whenever the brat of a boy whined about wanting to watch TV without doing his homework first over the past year. Harry had long learned to take his school report the instant it arrived back when his first report card had gotten him into trouble for being a LOT better than Dudley academically.

This morning, Dudley's father put his foot down and insisted he do extra schoolwork on summers to catch up. Apparently, Vernon had been quite a good student and wanted his son to follow in his footsteps.

Harry hummed a song he couldn't remember the origins of (beyond a colourful fairytale in his head) as he walked to the local park. The Repaired glasses were perched on his elf-like nose, the lenses having been shattered then magically fixed to help the little boy see better.

Running a hand through the downward spikes at the back of his head highly reminiscent of James' own, all the hair (as was his habit) having turned from jet black to dark red after breakfast, the reborn boy thought about all his discoveries: _Magic is so awesome! I think it's an energy inside me that I'm guessing cells make, though some research is needed to make sure. Explains why it's hereditary._

 _But really hard to get the hang of. Still, I can make wind, change objects' colours, prevent being noticed, make a small ball of light and fix stuff… Not to mention teleport from place to place using Darkness._

 _That's really cool, but kinda scary too even if I'm not sure what it was that's so bad about the Dark. Something bad happened to Riku because of it, I think. But Shadow-Teleportation's not the same as a Corridor of Darkness, only similar…_

 _The Dursleys are right about one thing; I'm far from normal._

Gaze lowering as his thoughts turned rather melancholy, the redhead stared down at his feet before looking up. He saw Kevin, a tanned, strawberry-blond boy from his class, chatting to his teenaged big brother by the swings with their parents talking affectionately to them before leaving. Harry looked at the family longingly, for a moment wishing with all his heart that exchanging whatever was the source of his oldest drawings and all of his magic for getting back **his** family was possible. _If only…_

* * *

 _I'll try to Shadow-Teleport again after visiting Mrs Figg,_ the newly-7-year-old thought, waving to Maya, Kevin and others as he walked out the kiddie park's gates before heading down a street unnoticed by nosy adults (thank you, Magic).

A long hour of raven-haired Harry clad in casual clothes (his over-sized school uniform had been stuffed inside his backpack) discussing all Mrs Figg's cats over tea and jam scones passed. When Harry left with a full stomach, he decided it would have to be a good half a month before he will pay another visit to Mrs Figg. _I don' think I can listen her go on about Tibbles, Snowy, Mr Paws and Tufty for some time._

 _In other news, there_ _ **has**_ _to be some kind of magical library, right? Or at least a bookshop._

Reaching Mongolia Crescent after turning a corner on Mongolia Street, Harry glanced all around the sides before slipping into the alley. Thinking of _someplace I can find out about real life Magic_ , he Shadow-Teleported.

* * *

A.N.: I try hard to NOT make Harry a Gary-Stu. Hence not figuring out placing another Notice-Me-Not aimed towards Marge would solve the problem. And other oversights Harry has in this story.

To Carina Llex: Harry never noticed Moldyshorts' Horcrux inside his protection scar because he is still pretty inexperienced when it comes to Magic.


	6. B1 Chapter 6

**Chapter 6. Wolf's Pack**

* * *

Reappearing with a cocoon of Darkness, Harry looked around. "Where'd I end up?"

He was on a sidewalk. There were cars driving back and forth on the street in front of him, and there were various store fronts all along the opposite sidewalk across.

Realization dawned on the ravenette, for this place looked like a typical busy London street. _So… Is one of these shops a library for magical folk?_

Harry stepped away from the wall that he was in front of, and looked to see what was on his side of the road.

The first thing he noticed was that the building had a grubby sign with a silhouette of a witch stirring a big black cauldron that read _'The Leaky Cauldron'_. The second thing was that the ground floor looked like a pub, while the rest looked like a dirty motel.

The newly-7-year-old quickly used the Notice-Me-Not spell on himself so no pedestrians would see what he was about to do, and stuck his Repaired glasses into the dark red pockets of his light grey shorts. With a touch of his Magic, he could see as well as if he was still wearing them. It would not last for long though, as the effect was to 'remind' his eyes what everything looked like when he had glasses on. This kind of vagueness had the disadvantage of being tiring to uphold.

Next Harry scrunched up his face, looking as though he was in pain though really he was just concentrating very hard. He imagined his eyes looking just like those ones in the laughing face full of mischief. The kid did this because he knew from a ripped up wedding photo of his parents' – the only photograph of them in the entire house, which he'd found underneath stuff in the main bedroom's drawer – that he looked like a mix between them. The small 'magician' had used the Repair spell on this photo and kept it in his pocket ever since.

Harry made his hair lay flat (it stopped sticking everywhere and now looked like a messy mop, the tips reaching his chin) to gain some semblance of a tidy appearance. And turned it a pretty, light colour for good measure; it would not be good if he got caught as himself, after all.

 _Wonder if my eye colour really changed?_ With a shrug, Harry entered the pub.

* * *

Today was a perfectly normal day in The Leaky Cauldron. People greeted each other, chatted, ordered meals or a drink, and passed through to Diagon Alley. Many were raising a glass of Firewhiskey or other alcohol in celebration of the Boy-Who-Lived.

A young man sitting at a corner table by himself did not talk to anyone nor did he join in the celebrations. One scarred hand ran through the sandy brown hair that had a couple grey streaks, the other (lacking a faded scar) tightening its hold on the mug's ear. Remus Jonathan Lupin sighed, silently debating ordering something stronger than a butterbeer.

He took a sip, contemplating a certain date. July 31st 1987. In less than twenty-four hours would be the anniversary of precisely seven years since the day he first held his little Pup, his **godson** , Harry.

 ** _Lily was laying on the hospital bed, looking exhausted but smiling tenderly at the small bundle in her arms. The only thing visible of the half-an-hour-old baby, from the corner where a haggard-looking but still clearly 20 years old Remus was standing, was a tiny tuft of jet black hair. James was sitting on a chair right next to Lily still looking at the bundle with the wide-eyed awe that had come over him when his firstborn touched his fingers before being handed back over to Lily._**

 ** _"Hadrian. Hadrian James Potter," she said with a loving smile, gazing at her very own child._**

 ** _Her husband started stuttering. "Wh– I– Are you sure? Y-you… you want to name him after me?"_**

 ** _The redhead nodded. "Of course, I do. He's our little miracle."_**

 ** _Sirius snorted at his best friend's love struck expression, turning everyone's attention to where he stood on the other side of the bed next to Remus. He shrugged at the inquiring looks, hands still in his skinny jeans' back-pockets. "Looks more like a hairy sprog to me."_**

 ** _"Padfoot…" Remus said with a warning note, though he looked more tired than anything._**

 ** _"For your information," Lily said, face turning red in anger, "I am calling him_** _Harry_ _ **."**_

 ** _James' expression cleared, though he was still smiling. "For your dad?"_**

 ** _His wife nodded, sadness in her eyes before she smiled fondly while looking at her newborn child. "Yes. He always went by Harry. Said Harold was too stuffy for his liking. And wasn't your grandfather's name Henry, James?"_**

 ** _"Yeah, Dad told me that Gramps went by Harry when with friends or family. So I think, what with Grandfather Henry and your dad, Harry is the perfect name for our baby boy."_**

 ** _There was a moment of silence as everyone gazed at little Harry, instantly in love with the newborn._**

 ** _"So why Hadrian?" Sirius asked curiously. "No offence or anything, but that's the kinda name my folks would give a kid." He brought one hand up and scratched his short, neatly-cut goatee. "On second thoughts, they'd probably have one with Hydrus. Or worse, Hercules. Star names, ya know?"_**

 ** _Remus and James snorted. The bespectacled man then smirked cheekily, saying: "Funny you mention that. My middle name's Cepheus."_**

 ** _Both of his close friends looked dumbstruck for a moment. Then, as usual, Sirius quickly found his voice. "Wait, what? I thought the C stood for Charlus!"_**

 ** _"Nah. Mum insisted Dad choose my name. And since my first kept up with the Potter tradition, he decided my middle one had to be by the Black tradition. But anyway, tonight's not about me, is it?" He looked lovingly at his son. "It's about the mini-Marauder."_**

 ** _Remus sighed, though he was smiling at the Potters. "Wish Peter could have come too. Then we would have everyone here to greet Harry." He understood why their friend had not shown up, though. It was pure luck Remus had managed to drag himself out of bed just in time and blearily had downed a Pepper-Up Potion as well as a Pain-Relief one so he could be there for two of his best friends. After all, both Lily and James had always been there for him._**

 ** _"That reminds me…" Lily bit her lip, looking uncomfortable. Her tiredness, visible before, seemed to become more prominent._**

 ** _James at once was there, trying to straighten the pillows. "Lils, what's wrong?"_**

 ** _"I… I don't want Harry's real first name leaving this room. Please."_**

 ** _"Why?" Sirius asked, tilting his head like a curious dog._**

 ** _"Because… I want that extra layer of protection. We are going under the Fidelius Charm tomorrow. So I want all three of you to promise, promise me you will not tell_** _anyone_ _ **, no matter who it is, Harry's birth name. For all anyone outside of this room knows, his full name is Harry James Potter.**_

 ** _Honey, when you told me the baby's name is up to me, I started arranging things and need to finish doing that as soon as possible now that the baby has been born. So… so you cannot tell anybody his true birth name who is not here now." She teared up towards the end, clearly terrified. Not for herself but the newborn in her arms, whom had meant everything to her since the moment she told James_** "I'm pregnant" ** _. The Potters had not bothered to find out whether it was a boy or girl, deciding to wait until the baby was born to find out as well as name him or her._**

 ** _"Lily…" James ran a hand through his messy hair, a nervous habit he had in his teenage years played off as an attempt to look cool._**

 ** _"_** _Promise me_ _ **, James."**_

 ** _Seeing how much this meant to her, all three men promised Lily. Next thing the four young adults knew, a thin crimson light wound through the room. It joined each adult to each other in a circular chain, the sleeping infant part of the chain as a link between his new parents._**

 ** _"An Unbreakable Vow," Remus murmured, astonished. To everyone's further shock, the magical link flashed a bright gold that lit the room before it vanished._** **Was that the Pack Bond?**

 ** _Lily bowed her head, guilt surging through her so strong the two canines in the room flinched when they smelled it. "Hey…" James held the redhead's chin and slowly tilted it up so their eyes locked. "It's OK, Lily. We are plenty happy to do this. Right, Padfoot, Moony?"_**

 ** _They nodded firmly in complete agreement._**

 ** _"Wouldn't ever hurt my hairy sprog, anyways." The atmosphere lightened at that wisecrack from Sirius, Remus slapping him over the head making Lily smile in amusement._**

 ** _Suddenly looking a little shy, she asked: "Would you like to hold your godson?"_**

 ** _"My_** _what_ _ **?!"**_

 ** _Harry started crying at the noise, prompting Lily to rock him like she had practiced doing with a pillow (to James' amusement) every once in a while the past couple weeks._**

 ** _When he quietened and fell asleep again, his mother carefully handed him over to his father. Who did the same, giving Harry to Sirius with a lot of instructions on how to properly hold a newborn._**

 ** _Stormy gray eyes stared at the infant with wonder. Then they darkened in determination._** **Never, ever am I gonna let Moldyshorts and his Death Munchers touch my Harry!**

 ** _Remus wistfully smiled at the scent coming off Sirius and the look on his face. Because frankly, he knew all of them would protect this little miracle with everything they had. As Moony, still very prominent at the moment, already decided,_** **He's our Pup.**

 ** _Harry was passed on to him next, much to Remus' panic. But when he held the bundle as if his cub was made of glass, he felt a love much like yet a little different from the one towards his friends. James and Sirius – and Peter, even if he was not here right now – were his brothers in all but blood, always had been since start of Second Year. Lily, kind, supportive Lily, had become his sister in late First Year. And he loved his nephew like a son._**

 ** _James and Sirius exchanged a look, then made for the door after they guided Remus into sitting by Lily's bed. "We will be right back, love," the bespectacled male assured his wife, closing the door behind them._**

As it turned out, James and Sirius had broken into the St Mungo's administration room and put Remus down as Harry's godmother. When the troublesome duo revealed this, Lily had made him hold Harry sitting on the sofa at the cottage, while she dragged her husband and honorary brother-in-law into the kitchen by an ear each.

Remus drank half the mug, the sweet tang of the yellow liquid topped by fluffy white foam doing nothing to lessen the dull ache in his heart. He could feel Moony at the back of his mind, howling the loss of his Pack.

Remus brought the mug down with a small slam, scowling. _Why won't Dumbledore let me visit Harry? Or help me go to Black's cell just_ _ **once**_ _? I have a right to see my godson, and want – no,_ _ **need**_ _– to hear from Padf–_ _ **Black**_ _'s own mouth WHY!_ Despite knowing from personal experience that Black was capable of betrayal and his knowledge of the Secret, he still found it hard to believe Sirius could ever be traitor to **James**. Remus honestly could not see how people so easily lumped Black with the rest of his family, despite the evidence. Hell, most had no idea about the lack of a trial! But did no-one question **why** Sirius would betray his brother in all but blood, the man he chose over his own family? Nope, they just moved straight on.

Remus sighed again, torn. He knew it was stupid, but a large part of him couldn't help thinking there had to be a reason. Maybe Voldemort – no point giving the bastard the satisfaction of him being afraid of a stupid name after the loss of his Pack – tortured Black. Or tricked him somehow?

Looking down at his drink, the young man's mind wandered to how some people had thought him to have been the Potters' Secret Keeper, forcing Remus to flee into his half-French father's home country for ages. When he returned to England two and a half years ago, he found out Sirius was in Azkaban and Harry away somewhere. Remus had tried to reason with Dumbledore, whom had gotten him out of trouble when he tried to storm into the hellhole of a prison, to no avail.

 ** _"What's done is done, my boy."_** That was all the Headmaster would say in regards to Black. As for Harry, he convinced Remus to leave well enough alone. The wolf half of him – Moony – took this as an Alpha's order, which severely discouraged Remus. And so, after months and even years of searching to no avail, he gave up on finding his Pup.

Hearing the bell tinkle, Remus looked up from the butterbeer towards the door. A rosy-cheeked, sunkissed boy wearing shorts and a black T-shirt with a thin teal and white jacket matching his sneakers tied around his waist had just walked into the pub. His chin-length, messy mop of hair was golden blonde in colour.

The little kid was looking around with wide eyes, when a man in his early 60s (though he looked twenty years younger compared to a Muggle the same age, as was usual with wizards and witches) strode over to him. It was Tom, the pub's current owner and main bartender. "Are you looking for someone, kid? What's your name?" Tom asked the stranger.

"Hadrian. …Black." As he tagged on the surname for good measure, Harry thought: _That one's ridiculously common, right?_

Heads turned from the nearest tables. Remus' eyes widened, his mouth dropping open.

"All right, Hadrian," Tom said with a friendly smile, one hand resting on his hip and the other stuck forward to be shaken. The kid did so, looking wary.

Whispers started up – and Remus, to his dismay, heard them far too perfectly clear. It was as if a wave swept over the pub, some people a bit louder than others.

"Black, he said!"

"Didn't think there was another one. I must write to–"

"Do you think Narcissa knows?"

"Clearly a bastard, by the looks of him."

"Could he be Regulus'–?"

"Bet that insane bitch cheated on her fiancée, bloody Death Eater."

"Look at those eyes! Definitely a Black."

The poor boy's face went bright red, his head ducking down as he pulled a hood over it. Remus alone noticed the few bits of hair visible changing colours until they settled somewhere between orange and pink.

Taking pity on the boy, the scarred youth got off his seat and walked over. With Tom's help, Hadrian was sandwiched between the two men as they marched him out the back of the pub, the bartender glaring at everyone until they quietened.

Once beside the pair of dustbins, Tom squatted down in front of Hadrian. The balding man spoke up, his tone gentle. "Hey, don't listen to them. They're all idiots."

To his surprise, the kid looked up. Stormy gray eyes filled by a stubborn defiance that Remus recognized with a pang, he retorted: "Screw the rest!"

Both men's eyebrows shot up at that. Remus frowned, both from the mix of scents coming off the child and unease at the word choice.

Getting over his surprise, Tom chuckled. "Well, that's one way to look at the situation. What was it you needed?"

"I'm… I'm looking for someplace where I can read. Or buy books."

The last Marauder walking didn't know what to make of this kid. First he showed up without an escort, then his emotions were all over the place. And to top it all off, Remus couldn't shake the faintly familiar scent. Not to mention the kid's air of vulnerability that became obvious to both men immediately following his bold statement. As if Moony deciding this kid was a cub he had to look after wasn't enough to deal with!

"I can show him around Diagon Alley." Tom looked – no, not shocked – bewildered that the sandy-haired male even offered. He then nodded solemnly, before smiling at Hadrian again.

"Remus here knows Diagon Alley like the back of his hand. You're getting the perfect guide, kid."

Said child frowned, clearly not liking the idea of trusting an adult. He then smiled politely and nodded, pulling off his hood to reveal short golden locks once again. Seeing the face up close, Remus couldn't help thinking he had definitely seen him somewhere before.

The brunette almost facepalmed when he remembered the surname. _Of course,_ _ **Black**_ _! This must be his… son… Wonder if I know the mother? Probably, seeing as he only looks a little bit similar to that former friend of mine._

"Er… Sir?" Remus turned his attention to the boy looking up at him uncertainly.

 _Yes, boy. He's just a small child. And I hated being judged for the actions of others'. So no, I won't blame him for what the traitor did. I_ _ **can't**_ _._

"Are we going, or what?" If Harry was stuck with a guide, might as well make use of him.

* * *

A.N.: I'm trying to be realistic with this fic. E.g. I decided all Harry's memories of his first life and time with the Potters faded over time. The memories are still in his head even as an old geezer, but out of reach unless he specifically searches for them while in a deep meditative state.

Which I'm gonna have a lot of fun with later. The memories, I mean. They will be highly important in a later Book (as I have a plan for the Horcrux inside Harry's head that does **not** involve him committing suicide because a ghost-like vision of his parents, godfather and favourite teacher says it's OK). There will also be a couple hints before the important scene.

I'm also going to bring in James and Lily as much as possible through flashbacks and other means. And no, not like in canon where everyone from the Marauders Era kept seeing Harry for his parents rather than himself.

P.S. Apologies for the long Author's Note. I'll try not to make such long ones, unless it's really necessary.


	7. B1 Chapter 7

**Chapter 7. Diagon and Knockturn**

* * *

Grinning at discovering such a place, Harry felt as though he would get whiplash from looking all around himself wide-eyed in his attempt to take everything in at once. He and Mr Lupin were walking down a cobbled street with shops and flats on both sides, corners of crossroads showing it expanded to a district around a quarter the size of Parkfield in St Ive, Cornwall. _Diagon Alley. I gotta remember this cool place is called Diagon Alley._

There were quite a bit of people around doing their summer shopping and going about their daily business. The young 'shape-shifter' flickered his gaze from hagglers at street stands to kids running around.

"Hadrian?" Remus asked, wincing a little at the name. _I would prefer it had the kid been named Hydrus instead._ "The bookshop is here."

His temporary charge grinned again, hurrying into the shop pointed out. Over the door and window had been written clearly _'Flourish and Blotts'_. Remus chuckled; the boy's excitement at something new was quite endearing.

Harry looked around at the shelves stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather, books the size of postcards in covers of silk, books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. "Wicked…" the 7-year-old whispered, barely containing his anticipation. He was **so** very tempted to burst out singing 'I'm Almost There', another Disney song that did not seem to exist.

Remus browsed, keeping some of his attention on Hadrian the whole time as said kid ran around looking at various books. Eventually, the little blond went to the counter with only three books tucked under his arm. One was hardback, olive green with vine-like swirls and, in the middle of its front, a large O that had an herb of some sort in it; another hardback book was dark grey in colour with a smoking black cauldron image inside four lines making a diamond at the front of the book, a black stripe going along the spine. The last was made from leather and dark red in colour with a swirling pale beige tree branch above and below the title, which was smack in the middle in gold letters that matched the two gold-tipped corners, a golden unicorn head next to the title. Each book was A4, their pages made from parchment.

"2 Galleons for _'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi'_ and _'Magical Drafts and Potions'_ , each. 2 Galleons and 3 Knuts for _'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them'_ ," the shopkeeper said.

Hadrian stared at him. "I'm sorry, **what**? That makes no sense!"

He received a glare for that little outburst. "Muggleborn, I presume? You can go change your money to Wizarding currency at Gringrotts." The shopkeeper smiled, a little friendlier. "I can hold onto these for you, until you come back, Mr…?"

"Black. Hadrian Black," the boy answered, silently wondering why this wizard seemed shocked at what he just said. _What is with people and reacting to just a name?_

Remus decided he should intervene, pushing his own surprise at Hadrian obviously being Muggle-raised to the back of his mind along with the feeling of familiarity. "I can show you to the bank, Hadrian."

The blond looked up at him over his shoulder, nodding. _I really want those books. They seem interesting and fun._

The pair exited the bookshop and, before long, reached a snowy white building that towered over the two shops on either side of it. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was a strange, human-like creature. It – he – was a little taller than Hadrian, with a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, the kid noticed, very long fingers and feet.

"Is that… a goblin?" Hadrian asked curiously, earning a light chuckle from Remus.

"Yes. I recommend treating them with respect. Goblins have a habit of holding grudges for centuries." The 7-year-old's eyes widened at that.

The goblin bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

 _'Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there.'_

"Why do I get the feeling these guys don't take kindly to robbers?" Harry murmured, earning another chuckle from Mr Lupin.

 _Definitely Muggle-raised._ Remus frowned, smile fading. _Poor boy. Either his mother is a Muggle and simply didn't know anything, or she never told him a thing. … I wish I could help him somehow._

A pair of goblins let them through the silver doors, Harry and Mr Lupin coming into a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. The two wizards made for the counter.

"The gold ones are Galleons," Remus explained as they walked, "17 silver Sickles to a Galleon and 29 bronze Knuts to a Sickle. The exchange rate for British Muggle currency is £85 to a Galleon, £5 to a Sickle and 17 pence to a Knut."

"Er… OK, but what'd you mean by 'Muggle'?" Hadrian wondered aloud.

"Non-magical people."

Hadrian frowned. _That's_ _ **really**_ _dumb. I've read a dictionary from cover to cover those couple times I got detention in Year One – never mind that other teachers shoulda suspected_ _ **something**_ _off about Miss Bitch and realized I didn't earn those dozen detentions she stuck me into – and the word 'muggle' means inept or disorganized in slang._ "I think I'll stick with 'Non-magical'."

He pulled a sock out of his pocket and emptied its contents into a small pile atop the counter. There were mostly £1 and £2 coins as well as £5 and £20 notes but also small change. Not to mention plenty of £100 and even a few £200 notes.

 _Is it smart to let a small child walk around unsupervised with such a bloody_ _ **insane**_ _amount of money?_ Remus silently wondered, then thought the 7-year-old's mother either had no clue about financial management or gave her son quite a lot of responsibility that did not seem particularly age-appropriate. _Either way, it's not really any of my business._

Hadrian split the pile down its middle, returned one half into the sock and lifted his head to look at the nearest goblin with a polite smile. "Sir, could you please exchange these," he gestured to the money, "into the Magical Community's currency?"

The goblin nodded, and nearly twenty minutes passed taking care of it. At the end, Hadrian stuck his money and receipt into the jacket's pocket with a "Thank you" then zipped it up.

* * *

After purchasing his three new books, Harry wandered around Diagon Alley with Remus still keeping an eye on him – somehow, all attempts at giving this man the slip were utterly unsuccessful – to make sure he didn't get into trouble.

They briefly visited 'The Apothecary', which Harry found very fascinating. Even enough to make up for its horrible stench of what a bad-eggs-and-rotted-cabbages mixture probably smelled like! Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. Barely noticing that Remus was obviously overwhelmed by the smell, Harry eagerly examined silver unicorn horns (at 21 Galleons each) and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (5 Knuts a scoop). Not to mention all the other interesting ingredients, nearly all of which he had never heard of.

Done browsing, the two acquaintances left the shop with a cauldron-shaped sign – to Remus' relief.

Harry looked over his shoulder, making a mental note to someday visit the Apothecary again. Next thing he knew, the 'shape-shifter' fell over.

"Watch where you're going!" another blond – his hair platinum rather than golden and slicked back as opposed to Harry's messy mop – snapped. He got up, dusting his fancy-looking clothes in various shades of blue.

Harry noticed a strange creature that had big, floppy triangular ears and eyes that reminded him of tennis balls standing behind the kid. The creature was the same height as the human boy, its only clothing an old pillow case with a crest of some sort on it. Thin arms were carrying a big bird cage with an eagle owl inside.

"Lupin," a cold voice said, and Harry looked up to see a man with sallow skin and greasy black hair that fell to just above his shoulders. He was wearing black robes which only made his skin stand out more.

"Snape," Remus replied with cool politeness, unhappy with the knowledge that someone like this man was walking free when he had lost everything. Still, unlike some Death Eaters, Snape could **not** have bribed his way out. He had to be innocent.

Harry got up, one hand gripping his backpack's strap. He looked between the two men uneasily.

Onyx eyes that felt as though they were boring into him looked down, and the man Mr Lupin had called Snape sneered. "Who might this be? Don't tell me you convinced a woman marry something like yourself?"

Remus visibly forced himself to calm down, though Hadrian could have sworn his eyes flashed golden for a second. "No," the brunette said through gritted teeth, then smiled in a mischievous way that prompted Snape to narrow his eyes. "This is Hadrian Black."

"Black?" the other boy repeated, now looking at Hadrian curiously and – the 'shape-shifter' was not sure whether his mind was still playing tricks on him – happily.

Snape, however, had the opposite reaction. His sneer became more pronounced as he glared at Remus. "Of **course**. Black did have a habit of… acquiring certain types of company."

The scarred man scowled, only barely holding back an outright growl. He shifted to stand slightly in front of a puzzled Hadrian, shielding his cub – and the question of _Since when is Hadrian my cub?_ was sure to come up later – from the perceived threat.

Harry did not like where this was going. It seemed some guy whose surname was Black was well-known in the Wizarding World. _Well, shite. My brilliant idea for being anonymous has officially backfired._

The platinum blonde, on the other hand, seemed pleased. Smiling in a rather haughty way, he stuck out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Black. My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Hadrian decided the smart move would be to shake the kid's hand and answer with a polite "Pleasure to meet you, as well." in the hope he could go back to exploring this place.

"Come along, Draco," Snape said to the 7-year-old, placing a hand on his shoulder and guiding him away from the cousin. "Your parents would be displeased to learn of you associating with less than savoury characters."

As the two walked away – the strange creature at their heels, Draco now looking confused and disgruntled – Harry gave Mr Lupin a questioning look. "What was **that** all about?"

"Nothing," Remus replied, and winced at the sarcastic smile he received. "It's not my story to tell."

Harry accepted that, if only reluctantly. His cheerfulness came back as they entered the shop Draco, Snape and the little creature had come out of. Curiosity peaked again, the happy-go-lucky child asked: "Hey, Mr Lupin? What was that little guy carrying the owl?"

"A house-elf. Most pureblood families have several of them to take care of all the housework."

Harry nodded, as if that explanation made perfect sense. Which wasn't entirely true.

He looked around the shop with interest, recognizing some of the owls even though the place was a little dark. There was a lot of rustling and some hooting.

Smiling mischievously as he imagined his relatives' reactions at an idea he just had, the magical kid spoke up: "Are owls pets around here?"

Remus nodded. "More or less. They are generally used as messengers to carry letters."

"Like homing pigeons." He had read a couple history books out of extreme boredom. Turned out, Harry actually liked History.

"Are you planning on buying one?" Remus wasn't sure if that was a good idea, what with the boy being Muggle-raised.

"Dunno. That depends."

"On what?"

"If one wants to come home with me." With that, Harry darted off and started looking around the shop with his ever-present curiosity.

Some owls were sleeping (their head tucked under a wing), some looked downright nasty, and many were being annoyingly loud. The shopkeeper was sweeping up feathers and other stuff.

A cute, light grey fluff-ball caught Harry's eye, and he went closer. It looked at him with curious amber eyes.

Harry pressed his elfish nose through the cage for a closer look, but was right after wrenched away by the scruff of his T-shirt. He turned to glare at the shopkeeper.

"Careful, lad," he said with a mild Scottish accent, "That one is more vicious than she looks."

Harry smirked. "I'll take her."

"Kid, you might want to reconsider that."

Crossing his arms, the 'shape-shifter' looked at the shopkeeper stubbornly. "I said I **will** take her."

Twenty minutes after having entered, Hadrian and Remus exited _'Eeylops Owl Emporium'_ with a bag of owl treats and a cage that held the young snowy owl. The sun was starting to set.

Reaching the entrance to Diagon Alley, Hadrian helped hold the cage up while Remus used one hand to pull out his wand. Once at the back of The Leaky Cauldron again, Hadrian stammered his thanks before heading off with a nod of goodbye to Tom.

The instant he was out of the pub, Harry cast the Notice-Me-Not followed by changing his hair and eye colour back to their original ones. He Shadow-Teleported to a random spot in Surrey.

* * *

Happily stroking his new owl, Harry thought about his venture into the world of Magic. He had read and reread his new books, but was getting bored again.

He sat up in bed, prompting Snowy – as she was called until a better name could be thought of – to flutter her wings. For a moment, Harry panicked. _If she screeches, I'm so dead!_

Thankfully, Snowy calmed down. Harry stroked her gently, murmuring apologies for startling her. She gave his fingers a playful nip.

 _Maybe I can go check that place out again. Got a bit of money left from last time, so I_ _ **could**_ _buy a good book. Or something else interesting. … Should I try writing Draco first instead of waiting for his second reply?_

 _…_ _Nah._

Harry got out of bed, opening the old curtains to reveal a nice day. It was beginning of the weekend, eight days since he had re-discovered the Magical Community. Harry opened the window, then turned to his feathery friend. "Want to go hunting again?"

Snowy hooted and flew off. He never kept her in the cage except when she slept, allowing the owl free reign in his bedroom when he was there and outside when he wasn't. He knew how it felt to be locked up, after all.

Sighing with boredom, Harry closed the window. He wasn't about to risk the Dursleys discovering his room by following the source of cold.

 _I suppose I'll read_ 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' _a fourth time. … On second thoughts, Diagon Alley sounds like a better idea._

* * *

The sunny yet cloudy Saturday morning's calmness was interrupted when Hadrian Black silently appeared out of nowhere into a hidden nook in Diagon Alley, crashing headfirst into a small pile of trash. He got up on his hands and knees, groaning. _Aww, nuts… And I was getting good at Shadow-Teleporting too. Guess this means I just Teleported instead. Was it because this is my first time ending up in a specific place I wanted to end up in?_

Harry brushed the dirt and rubbish off himself, standing up. A 'Theory C' on the subject written into the Journal before he was wandering around the district again, until the blond (having gone down some stairs and turned a bunch of corners) found himself on a dark, narrow street.

Never noticing the carved words _'Knockturn Alley'_ on the main entrance he passed while looking for the way back to Diagon Alley (Harry wasn't stupid, he knew he had accidentally gotten lost, in a whole other district to boot), the small wizard came to a dimply lit shop. A square sign (that had been painted green a **long** time ago, if its faded colour was any indication, and was hanging at a 90 degree angle to the shop) read in dirty yellow letters _'Borgin & Burke's'_.

Curious, Harry walked in. "Yikes. This place is weird," the little blond commented aloud, sticking his hands into the jacket's pockets (the darker district felt a bit chilly, so he'd put it on).

That was an understatement. A large, black cabinet with double doors stood to the left of the fireplace. A glass case in front of it held a withered hand on a cushion, a blood-stained pack of cards and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks leered down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling.

There was a bell on the counter, which is across the shop near one of the walls. Behind it stood a stooping man Tom's age, with greasy brown hair. "What do you want?" he demanded in a rude tone.

An impish thought popped into Harry's mind: _Wonder if my alias makes him react too?_ "Just to browse, is all," he replied politely, then sneered in a way that hopefully looked like Snape's. "I suppose that is all right? You certainly have heard of me, I assume."

"How am I supposed to recognize some Mudblood?"

Now angry – if only because he could tell it was an insult despite having no idea what it was supposed to mean – Harry glared at the man with fists clenched. "For your information, my name is Hadrian **Black**. And I most certainly am no mud-blood, even if I am forced to go out in disguise." _Oops. Let slip too much._

However, that seemed to do the trick. The man stuttered apologies, inviting "Mr Black" to browse the shop.

Harry did just that. When the man – Borgin – told him about the Hand of Glory, he considered buying it but then decided he was plenty good at getting what he needed without resorting to thievery; pilfering money from the Dursleys to get himself new clothes when the old ones were far too worn for use with an older kid's help and taking Dudley's broken stuff without permission to fix then sell them so he could buy books or drawing supplies did **not** count.

The boy sneered at Borgin again. "I'd like to think my assets are plenty enough without resorting to being a common thief."

"Yes, yes, of course. I was not trying to imply, no, no–"

Harry snickered, then resumed looking around the shop. He came across an A5, hardback, dark blue book with a large eye carved in the middle, the title _'Detecting Deceit'_ on its spine like two of his three new books had theirs. He pulled it out and, after looking at the other books on the shelf, also pulled out a pale violet, leathery one that had swirls of silvery smoke painted its front cover with the curvy title of _'Intruder Beware; Mental Snares'_ in the middle.

 _These look like they'll help me be prepared for a mind attack. I don't wanna end up bewitched like the Dursleys were five 'n' a half years ago._

Harry brought the books to the counter, Borgin going behind it. "I would like to purchase these. Say, 2 Galleons each?"

"Ah, I see you are interested in the Arts involving one's mind. I am afraid these books are too precious to be sold at a mere four Galleons. The price is 24 Galleons. Each."

Harry put his hand into his pocket, about to take out money when something made him pause. Stormy gray eyes narrowed at the obviously shady shopkeeper, stating firmly: " **Twelve** Galleons each."

"My apologies, Mr Black, but I accept no less than thirty-five Galleons in total."

 _Oh yeah? Clearly you don't know the Evans stubbornness._ "Fine. I suppose I will make my purchase elsewhere." Harry turned to leave.

"Wait!" The child half-turned and raised a light eyebrow. "12 Galleons and 2 Sickles for _'Intruder Beware; Mental Snares'_ , and 12 Galleons for _'Detecting Deceit'_."

Harry sauntered over, grinning. He paid, grabbed the books and made to stride out the door. A question (that borderlined on being a plea) from Borgin made him pause: "You **will** put in a good word on me to Cassiopeia, right?"

"I shall consider it," Harry lied without looking back; no way would he do that jerk a favour after losing the remainder of his Wizarding money. Once outside, the 7-year-old thought confusedly: _Who's Cassiopeia? That's a star sign, right? …Meh, not my problem._

* * *

A.N.: Just had to bring in everyone's favourite Werewolf. He shoulda been developed more in the books. Dunno if any of you caught it, but Remus actually **is** helping Harry already by explaining things to him.

And, dunno if anyone noticed, I fused together the two covers of _'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them'_ , although had to leave out the real life one since it was hard enough as it was. _'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi'_ and _'Magical Drafts and Potions'_ are canon, but the Occlumency and Legilimency books are made up by me. Their contents are canon stuff, though.

Also, I don't know what the exchange rate between Galleons and pounds is, but as Ollivander only charges around 7 Galleons for a wand and makes a living off them it would make sense for wands to cost a lot (this theory is supported by Ron having a hand-me-down wand until Arthur won some sort of lottery in canon 1993). Plus, you can actually buy stuff with a few Knuts so one can't be just a couple pence.

P.S. I swear, Snape and Malfoy wrote themselves in. Those sneaky snakes…

In other news, I like to believe people in general think Snape – and any other non-convicted Death Eater – has had a fair trial and was proven innocent. I also think that Dumbledore used his influence to have a farce of a trial for Snape but because people just wanted to forget everything that happened, they didn't question Snape's loyalties (which I think are to **himself alone** , but both Voldemort and Dumbledore are good at pulling his strings).

Apologies for the long Author's Note.


	8. B1 Chapter 8

**Chapter 8. Mind Games**

* * *

Harry hid in a random wooden box, then Teleported out of Knockturn Alley.

He reappeared in his bedroom, and promptly changed the two details of his appearance so that he looked like H. Potter again. Then, like the child he was, the messy-haired ravenette tossed his new books onto the bed, shrugged his jacket off (dropping it in a heap on the floor) and lay down on his stomach to happily look at his newest books.

As time passed until mid-August, every moment Harry was not playing with his classmates or wandering in various locations outdoors – latter courtesy of Shadow-Teleportation, of course – he spent reading the various books he owned rather than library books, especially the newest ones from Diagon and Knockturn.

* * *

Harry trembled in the dark, tears streaming down his dimpled, rosy cheeks as he lay on the floor of his bedroom. Blood coated his left shoulder. _How could I be so STUPID?_

* * *

Two days later, the 7-year-old was sitting on a thick tree branch with _'Intruder Beware; Mental Snares'_ on his lap. Part of the bandaged shoulder peeked out from under his navy blue T-shirt.

 _'Occlumency is the use of mental clarity to control one's emotions and defend their mind from invasion.' Holy cheesecake, no matter how many times I read that it still sounds weird_ _ **and**_ _cool._

Without a single sound, Harry read the book until he was halfway through – again – and stuck it into his backpack (which was hanging on a stubbed branch from the tree). He meditated for a little while, then took out the book again when he found that he could not go any further.

 _'People who are very in touch with their feelings tend to be less gifted in Occlumency than those capable of suppressing or compartmentalizing them.' So, I'm too expressive? That doesn't make sense! I had no problem meditating a few seconds ago!_

According to the book, an Occlumens should basically organize his/her emotions, suppressing how they feel in regards to certain memories making it easier to hide said memories. This was also a large part of why Veritaserum was unreliable in the Wizengamot Court's trials.

 _'A highly skilled Occlumens can subvert even the most powerful Truth Potion by instantly locking their initial answers or knowledge inside of themselves, therefore preventing their own access to it. As a result, half-truths and possibly even outright lies can be spoken while under the Potion's influence.'_ _ **That**_ _is definitely useful. I have a couple secrets that absolutely cannot get out…_

Harry made a few notes into his Journal, then silently read the first two pages of _'Detecting Deceit'_ : _'Legilimency is often confused with mind-reading, which it technically is. However, there are elaborate differences between the two. Whereas mind-reading would simply be looking at the target's mind like reading a textbook or eavesdropping on a conversation inside their head, such a feat is impossible simply due to the complexity of the human mind. For mind-reading, only the conscious would be available yet a Legilimens can access not only surface thoughts but also memories and voluntary muscles. A master Legilimens can even affect another person's mind in a manner vaguely reminiscent of the Imperius Curse and the Compulsion Charm.'_

 _…_ _Holy cheesecake, I_ _ **gotta**_ _master Occlumency ASAP._

Harry tried to clear his mind like the Occlumency book said to. _… What if I end up stuck in my own mind? Or, or get mind-controlled by a grown-up wizard? And end up losing myself?_ He started breathing heavily, hazel eyes snapping open with rising panic and hair going wild in a flurry of rapidly changing style as well as colour. The strange kid started trembling, fingers clutching at the thick tree branch he was sitting on.

 _Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, that can't happen! I don't wanna be_ _ **mind-controlled**_ _! Or turned into some_ _ **regular**_ _kid! Crap, crap, crapola, I'm so gonna_ _ **DIE**_ _…!_

This went on for half an hour straight; Harry's wide imagination only served to provide more and more outlandish situations that would result from failure to learn Occlumency successfully. Thankfully, he eventually realized what was happening and started meditating to calm himself.

"Phew… I almost fell outta the tree in my panic. O.K., lets start again." Harry reclosed his unknowingly crimson eyes, breathing in deeply. Then out. Then in. And so on.

 _Shields, shields, shields… What are Occlumency shields supposed to be like, anyway? …Eh, I'll figure it out._

After an hour of meditation, Harry climbed down from the tree with no success at creating shields or emptying himself of emotion. Gripping the straps of his backpack, he walked slowly to Number 4 Privet Drive with his jet-black hair in colour instead of the dark red it had been earlier and hazel eyes back to light emerald.

 _Maybe I've been too into the whole Magical powers thing. I should take a break from everything to do with it._ With that thought in mind, Harry entered through the front door (he had long ago stolen Vernon's spare key) and went upstairs.

He packed all five of his new books atop the few Non-Magical ones that had been bought over this summer into a cardboard box, which was only a quarter filled so far. The cautious kid then placed his favoured spell of Notice-Me-Not on said box (in case the Dursleys someday found his room) and stuck the whole thing beneath his unmade bed.

* * *

The next morning, Harry quickly put a load of his own laundry into the washing machine along with the Dursleys'. And recast the Notice-Me-Not spell on himself along the way upstairs.

He sighed disappointedly, sitting cross-legged on the floor with arms crossed over his chest. Biting his lip, the 7-year-old tried to think of a way to help himself learn the Mind Arts. _I_ _ **have**_ _to be able to protect myself from mind rape. Hey, maybe I'll find something in_ 'Flourish and Blotts' _!_

He promptly stood up, changed his eye and hair colour to those of Hadrian Black, and Teleported into an unoccupied alley in Diagon Alley; applying meditation helped lessen the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Harry straightened his grey and dark orange, thin coat before walking around the Magical district until he found the familiar bookshop.

Harry browsed the shelves, but to his dismay found nothing about Occlumency or Legilimency. He decided to read _'A History of Magic'_ by Bathilda Bagshot for a short time to take his mind off the disappointment, followed by buying it when he realized just how interesting a read it turned out to be. At one point, Harry smiled happily as he found what to call Snowy the owl.

Returning into his room with the late afternoon Sun low in the sky, Harry napped until he heard tapping on the window. He threw the covers off and let Snowy in. She hooted, coming to a stop on Harry's shoulder with talons gripping his violet T-shirt and her round little head nuzzling his cheek. Harry laughed softly, stroking the fluffy feathers of his best friend's wings.

"Hey, Snowy… What do you say to being called Hedwig?"

* * *

Exactly one month after his visit to the shadier magical district, primary school started once again.

Luckily for Harry, his Year Three class had a new teacher this year. Friendly Mr Pearson was a far cry from the bullying Miss Burch, not to mention he had heard nothing but good things about Harry from his colleagues (except Miss Burch, but everyone who knew Harry had stopped believing her and the principal sacked her) and so treated him as just another student.

Sporting his natural messy mop of jet-black hair with added dark red highlights and golden blonde fringe, Harry was taking a walk in the cool September air after school, wandering around Little Whinging with the usual Notice-Me-Not on himself to easily avoid being spotted by meddling adults. _First Monday of the month. Time sure flies._

The child was not fretting over anything – not his continuing failure in Occlumency, or his lack of ideas for how to do Fire. He had taken a quick look at brand-new _'The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)'_ by Miranda Goshawk early that morning before buying it, having found a fire-making spell in the textbook. Unfortunately, Incendio required a wand with which to draw a flame-shape into the air for it to work. It would not have been a problem if Harry hadn't learned on his first ever trip to Diagon Alley that wands were only gained at 11 years old. That, and he simply did not feel like buying one when he was capable of doing Magic without it. Although, maybe he could try the Bluebell Flames spell…?

Regardless, leaning Cure a.k.a. Heal was now **much** more important than making or setting things on fire. Unfortunately, Harry was not getting anywhere with that either.

None of these things were in his mind at the moment, however. Harry gave a serene smile, glancing at the very familiar scenery. He soon took the spell off and added a new Notice-Me-Not aimed at the grey tint his sunkissed skin had taken for the time being.

He stopped by at Mrs Figg's with his hair fully ebony again, offering to tidy up the living-room for her when he heard the old cat lady murmuring about her joints while getting a cup of tea and a slice of stale strawberry cake for him. Which only served to make the 3rd grader's nausea worse.

Once back at Private Drive, Harry went into his room. Homework completion that lasted four hours, taking a short, warm bath that did little for the queasiness, reading about owls while munching on a big sandwich he'd made in the kitchen, and letting Hedwig out to go hunt. Plopping down on the bed in green-checkered blue boxers and a light crimson T-shirt, Harry was soon fast asleep.

* * *

The next morning before leaving for the third day of school, Harry skimmed through the Legilimency book with renewed vigour. The lenses of his glasses were now plain, though he still wore them when in public (unless he was going around as his Hadrian Black alias or a random-kid-disguise).

Sitting in class, the ravenette decided to try making eye-contact with someone to see if that would affect anything, seeing as the book said it was the only way a Legilimens could access someone's thoughts and memories. _I'll try it on Dudley._

Harry told Kevin, whom he had been helping on understanding the 2 times-tables, that he needed to have a word with his cousin. "All right, Hal," Kevin replied, calling the other boy by his nickname. He then frowned in concentration, looking at the A4 sheet in front of himself.

The 'shape-shifter' glanced at where Mr Pearson was helping Maya, and slipped over to the low table occupied by Dudley, Piers, Dennis, Malcolm and Gordon – also unofficially known as Dudley's gang, seeing as he was the biggest and stupidest of the lot therefore making him the leader.

Casting the favoured spell had become second-nature by now, and so none of the bullies noticed they were approached. Dudley shivered a bit, suddenly feeling an overwhelming need to run as far as he could get. He looked around but the rather watery, sky blue eyes passed right over the smaller, skinny 7-year-old. The tricoloured boy gave a tiny, terrifying grin at the nervous look that appeared on Dudley's round, pinkish face.

Like a predator stalking its prey, Harry moved to the side until he had a clear view of his horrid cousin. Licking his lips in anticipation, the little wizard locked eyes with Dudley. _Legilimens!_

It felt strange. He could feel himself still standing next to Malcolm, yet it felt like he was not properly there. He felt as though he was Dudley, seeing everyone through the spoilt child's eyes. _Whoa. This is such an out-of-body experience._ Harry didn't remember what that actually meant, but he thought it was nevertheless an accurate description.

The connection broke less than five seconds after forming, Dudley jerking to his feet so fast his chair toppled over. Harry was back in his seat triple-checking his answers before the teacher had even moved to stand.

"Potter yelled in my ear!"

Oh, right. Ever since Harry had learned of himself being famous amongst the British Magical Community (assuming the other countries were separate from it) back on his 7th birthday, he used the wedding photograph of his parents to daily practice changing his skin tone to match the complexion his father had had. Hopefully in a few months he could change his facial features to match a kid James' perfectly, save for having Lily's eyes. That would hopefully allow him fully distance himself from being associated with that **ridiculous** title of 'Boy-Who-Lived' the second he will graduate from St Grogory's. He did NOT need fame over surviving where his parents and other kids died, thank you very much.

"Dudley, what are you talking about?" Mr Pearson (who tended to call his students by their first name) asked, moving over to him. Harry mentally snickered, pinching his own arm to help keep his face straight. He dropped the Notice-Me-Not, feeling it move off himself like water drops in a shower, after changing his hair back to its original colour but taming the raven locks.

Luckily, nobody believed Dudley when he insisted that Harry had gone to yell into his ear. He received his second warning of the week about behaviour standards. Had this been even half a year ago, a royal tantrum would have started followed by Dudley's parents insisting their little angel was perfect when they get called in. Now, however, being on the receiving end of his father's ire had lowered the blond's confidence in misbehaving enough for him to quiet down after being scolded.

Harry smirked. _This is going to be fun!_

For the rest of the school day, Harry kept testing Legilimency on Dudley at suitable intervals. It was much easier to do than Occlumency, for him anyway; and by the time Petunia came to pick her son up, Harry had figured out how to be more careful about mind-reading. All he had to do was meditate while casting Legilimens on Dudley. Kind of like a mixture of deep breathing and preventing yourself from saying something by keeping your mouth shut…

Humming a cheerful little tune he recalled having read one sheet's lyrics that morning when bored, Harry followed his aunt until the three Evans reached the car. With a second Notice-Me-Not against adults and other children, he easily slipped away to go for his usual walk.

* * *

Back at Nr 4 Privet Drive two hours later, Harry sat on the worn bed with his light blue, soft back Maths notebook on his lap. He ripped a blank page out of it, and wrote the date as well as what he knew about the Wizarding World so far. This was not much beyond him being famous for not getting killed (that explained those occasional nightmares involving a flash of green and someone laughing in a creepily high voice) and the Magical folk being behind in times. _I mean,_ _ **really**_ _, they still wear Renaissance era clothing and use quills instead of a pen or pencil!_

Harry wrote about his attempts at Legilimency into his Journal, deciding to practice the Mind Arts daily but with suitable adults as Legilimency targets instead of his peers, and then closed it. The Journal went into the hiding place, underneath a loose floorboard.

With a wave of his hand, Harry cast Repair on the small remote-controlled tank Dudley had gotten for last Christmas and broken a week ago when nearly driving it over a small dog. The broken pieces flew together and seamlessly became a whole, perfectly well-working toy. He picked it up, putting the tank into a small, thin plastic bag so it could be sold to an interested 4th grader on this Sunday. It would no longer be remote-controlled, but at least it would look high quality and work fine in imaginative games.

Harry went downstairs, and carefully took a plateful of leftover food while Petunia was helping Dudley with his homework.

After eating in his room, he tried to cast Cure – which was generally referred to as Heal – once again. Harry scowled, angrily grabbing his pillow and screaming his frustration into it when the Magic just did **not** go past sparking at his fingertips every time he tried to heal any cuts.

 _This is getting old._

* * *

A.N.: The seemingly random scene where Harry bleeds is there to show when in this story's timeline his huge, will-play-a-role-later injury happened. Word of advice, people: Think before acting, and don't go outside at night.

Unlike canon Harry, THIS Harry figured out from the near-start that the Dursleys would never love him like his parents had. So he never bothered trying and instead adopted an I-love-myself-the-way-I-am attitude that grew stronger with each achievement he has.

Hey, I've got a very Sirius question (sorry, couldn't resist the pun; my brother has taken to calling me idiot every time he catches me snickering and muttering "But I'm always Sirius…"): **What House do you think Harry should be in?** My thoughts on this are the following–

*He is a cheerful, more social and knowledgeable version of canon Harry. GRYFFINDOR

*He loves learning, is very logical and has reading as one of his hobbies. RAVENCLAW

*He is rather friendly and prepared to work very hard for what he wants. HUFFLEPUFF

*He has shown great resourcefulness, and is out to be the best he can be. SLYTHERIN

Any thoughts?


	9. B1 Chapter 9

**Chapter 9. My Friend**

* * *

Harry sat on a swing in the kiddie park one mid-autumn morning, a sketchbook – received on the first day of school as a belated joint 7th birthday present from his classmates in consolation for the lack of a party and thanks for tutoring them – on his lap and pencil in hand. The tricoloured boy carefully sketched the outlines for a square-ish head, followed by adding the almond-shaped eyes. Then a curving horizontal line for the body's back. Harry briefly used the rubber end of the pencil to erase a small mistake, brushed the sketch over with the back of his hand and resumed drawing.

The 7-year-old went unnoticed by pedestrians and a few car drivers as morning turned to afternoon, all eyes passing over the very sickly-looking boy as though he was nothing.

Ears twitching at the faint sound of other kids heading to the park, Harry finally stopped working on the darkly-coloured picture. He held the pencil close with his hand straightened to make the palm flat, piercing light emerald eyes staring at the tip that had greatly dulled compared to how sharp it had been earlier. It suddenly turned from navy blue back to its original lead.

Smiling, the little wizard pocketed his pencil, looked at the drawing (of a wolf cub running through dense woods on a silvery full moon) in satisfaction, and packed his sketchbook away into the backpack. _Gotta hurry if I plan on getting to school on time._

Fingering the completed good-luck charm hanging from a thin golden chain along with two thin metal circles that held an hourglass in the middle, Harry turned the time keeper.

That evening…

"YES!" Harry promptly slapped his hands over his mouth. He waited with baited breath, but the Dursleys were too busy watching TV at a loud volume to take notice of his outburst.

Slowly removing his hands, Harry grinned with pride. He placed his hand over a scrape on his knee, a memory appearing in his mind:

 ** _A lightly tanned boy of '14' with his dark red hair falling in short waves, tips reaching his attached earlobes, was arguing with another hot-headed teenager. The fight quickly escalated when he found himself pushed over so hard that the sickly teenager scraped his knee._**

 ** _The redhead_** _literally_ _ **snarled, hazel eyes turning molten gold as he jumped towards the other male and wrestled him into submission. The crowd of students that had gathered around them cheered.**_

 ** _"Mr Evans!" At the teachers approaching, the large group of teens started to scatter. Looking appalled at such behaviour from a new kid, his homeroom teacher dragged the Evans boy off his victim. The gold bled away to return his eyes hazel once more._**

Closing his own almond-shaped eyes and meditating once more to regain the calm that helped him show a bit of improvement, Harry pleaded with the familiar, special power inside of himself to please help as he begun to hum:

 _Magic bloom and glow,_

 _By Sun an' Moon shine,_

 _Make the clock reverse,_

 _Bring back what once was mine._

 _Heal the hurt within, change the face of time,_

 _Bring back what has been lost,_

 _Bring back what once was mine._

 _What once was mine…_

Tiny tendrils of a soft, grass green light flowed from Harry's palm to his fingertips, carrying on to the half-healed scrape. It slowly closed as if healing in fast-forward, until the tiny injury appeared to be weeks old. Laughter bubbled up in Harry's chest. He fell back on his bed, his Magic radiating his joy for even the Dursleys and one of Mrs Figg's cats licking itself on a nearby fence to feel.

* * *

The happiness at finally learning Cure was nowhere to be seen on the 31st of October. As he did last year, Harry tricked Dudley into accidentally breaking one of the photos on the mantelpiece. A quick, second Notice-Me-Not on himself added after the reapplied spell to be doubly sure he would not get caught, Harry gathered the pieces onto a napkin and returned to his bedroom.

He tossed the picture of Dudley and co. at the nearest cinema somewhere on the floor, Repaired the glass, and framed a picture of his parents.

Only, the new tradition was going to go a little differently this year. No using an old drawing from his toddler years or even a brand new, well-sketched picture he had made in the square, beige-covered spiral Sketchbook with an elaborate green H in the middle of the front during the past week.

Instead, Harry framed the photo of his parents that he had Repaired over half a year ago.

Once the image of his only family had been carefully set on the windowsill, Harry sat cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed. The memories of his parents may have been very foggy by now, but he could still hear his father's laughter and his mother's singing.

In fact, it was Lily's lullaby combined with select ones of his childish drawings and lyrics that had inspired the solution for his Cure dilemma in the first place.

Harry softly sang Rapunzel's healing incantation (with minor modifications to make it feel more his own) once more, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. No matter how O.K. his life was now thanks to Magic, he was still so very **alone**.

It swirled around him, and his fluttered-shut eyes did not need to open for the tricoloured boy to 'see' all of the ribbons of colours flowing on and around him.

Then a strange but pleasant sensation covered Harry like a blanket. He felt as though he was being hugged by his mother again, yet it was not completely physical nor did he feel actual arms around himself. Even though there was a definite heart-beat, barely audible. Despite it coming from inside himself, Harry could tell that it was not his own.

It was Lily. And James, too.

A lone tear trickled down Harry's dimpled cheek. "Mummy… Dada…" he sniffed, "I miss you."

An invisible blanket wrapped around him in a swirl of emerald, amethyst and silver (all with a hint of gold), Harry resting his head on the edge of his bed as his parents' presence hugged him once more for a single night.

* * *

A week later, Harry moved about cheerfully as though nothing had happened. The photo frame was back on the mantelpiece with Dudley and co.'s image in it.

 _"They think I'm callous,_

 _A lowlife hood._

 _So I'm a misfit,_

 _Misunderstood!"_

Padding out of the kitchen through the living-room and into the narrow hallway singing quietly, Harry bit down on an apple and crunched the piece down. He grabbed his backpack from where he had left it next to the cupboard, hopped about on one foot to put his sneakers on, and zipped up the hooded coat. Finishing his small breakfast, the child grew his hair's highlights (a lovely compromise of a hair-colour) to cover the blackness once more and started walking to school. His golden blonde bangs darkened and reddened to match the rest perfectly.

 _I'm getting real good at Healing myself, and even managed to do that to help Kevin's broken wrist get better_ _ **twice**_ _as fast as it normally woulda. With Cure and Cura, there's no more need for buying yucky Potions through Hedwig nearly as much now. Especially since I run and play so much in any forest I happen to find that's far-ish from any civilization._

 _…_ _Maybe I could try making my own Potions? It'd be something fun, new to learn. I have so many notebooks filled with everything I need to know for higher education by now. Besides, the_ _ **real**_ _important exams are a whole year and a half away!_ Clasping his hands behind his head, Harry smiled in satisfaction. Nothing was worse than being bored (except for being normal); and, anyway, he had read his Potions textbook a hundred times by now and was eager to try the recipes out.

* * *

A cylindered house that strongly resembled a gigantic version of the rook chess piece stood on the top of a hill. It had few, small windows and stone steps leading to the front door. Vines yellowed from the coldness of late autumn crept up the curved black walls.

Hadrian Shadow-Teleported to the front yard. He stared at the unusual house in surprise, before curiosity took over. The 7-year-old looked around, turning to see tacked signs that read _'Editor of the Quibbler'_ and _'Pick your own Mistletoe'_. A simple wooden gate that had recently been painted bright yellow served as the entryway to the front yard, a dirt path zigzagging to the front steps with a variety of odd plants surrounding it. Harry recognized some of 'em from his Herbology textbook.

Following the path to the two-part front door, the little boy pondered on whether this was another **bad idea**. … Eh, he would wait and see.

Harry knocked on the thick, black front door studded with iron as hard as he could, since his fist was not particularly strong and the eagle-shaped knocker was too high for him to reach.

A girl over a year younger than him opened the lower half of the door. She was wearing a soft, pale orange and brown dress with a dark orange scarf hanging around her shoulders. Straggly, dirty blonde hair fell to her shoulders in waves. Harry was unsure whether it was the protuberant, silvery-blue eyes or him showing up on her family's doorstep that was causing the surprised look.

"Hello." Her voice was soft, almost melodious. It would doubtlessly grow to be beautiful.

"Hi. I'm Hadrian. What's your name?" Harry said, waving cheerfully with a friendly smile.

"Mummy named me Luna, because it is her name too. She said you are of the Moon…"

"Eh?" _O-kay…_ "Nice to meet cha, Luna. Are your parents home?" Harry fiercely swallowed the jealousy that rose in his chest at this little girl being that lucky when he was **not**. Having learned to accept it did little to deter envy whenever his classmates talked about their families.

"Yes." Luna did not move, simply staring at the strange boy without blinking.

Fiddling with his good-luck charm, he continued: "Right. So, uh… I want to talk to them."

"Is this about Nargles? You will have to talk to Daddy, then."

"What are Nargles?" Harry wondered out loud, his curiosity aroused.

Luna launched into a confusing yet pleasant-sounding explanation about pesky little creatures that liked to take things that weren't theirs to hide.

Harry nodded as if this explanation made perfect sense, then asked: "Have you caught one?"

"No," Luna replied in an almost incredulous tone. "Nargles are too fast and clever to be caught by people."

"…Then you've seen one, right? That's how you know they exist. What do they look like?"

"I haven't seen one, but Daddy says that's because I'm too young. He told me stories, though. Nargles look kind of like fairies but much fluffier, and they are just as mischievous. Their colour is yellow but they change it a lot."

Harry smiled. "Cool." At Luna's confused look, he explained that it meant "wicked", "neat" and "good".

Without another word, she turned around and skipped away inside the house. Unsure if he was supposed to follow, Harry inched after her closing the front door behind him with a click. He took in the unusual décor of the kitchen, deciding that Luna's family was much more interesting than his relatives.

"Why, hello. You must be Hadrian Black," a serene voice said. Harry whirled around to see a grown-up version of Luna with platinum blond hair and the same silvery-blue eyes as her daughter sitting in a weaved chair. Luna was standing next to her mother, playing with a flower.

"Umm, yeah. Are you Luna's mum?" Harry bravely walked closer to the pair, using friendliness to reduce his unease. He didn't feel the least bit threatened; merely anxious.

Luna giggled. "Of course, silly."

Harry frowned, not liking being made fun of. He shrugged it off, as Luna had not seemed to be laughing **at** him, and smiled politely at her mother. "Ma'am, could you please teach me how to brew Potions?"

"Very well, Moon-Warrior, I will help you learn." Luna's mum rose from her seat and more or less waltzed through the round room. "But first, how about some tea?"

* * *

Harry came to the Lovegoods' house in Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England again Sunday morning, spending the day listening with Luna to Xenophilius' ("Call me Xeno, Hadrian") stories about various Magical Creatures that were near-extinct and not even considered real by most people. Something Harry thought was stupid, since Non-magicals did not think unicorns and dragons existed yet those were perfectly real.

Speaking of dragons, he told Luna about the various views Non-magical people had on them and even showed her from his Sketchbook a recent drawing of Toothless the Night Fury from a nonexistent movie titled _'How To Train Your Dragon'_. Luna had been delighted and asked him to draw a dragon for her, so he popped by in _'Flourish and Blotts'_ and looked at a book about dragons as basis for sketching a cute little Norwegian Ridgeback at one point during the passing week.

Luna hugged him as thanks on Saturday morning, at once asking her mother to use a Permanent Sticking Charm to add the colourful drawing to her bedroom wall.

Harry, although glad that he had made Luna so happy, inquired about the Potions lessons again. His memory of re-reading _'Magical Drafts and Potions'_ by Arsenius Jigger in bed under the covers with a pale amber Light Orb floating beside the book allowing him to see flashed through the blond's mind. After so much practice, he could switch its original colour of light yellow/pale amber to any on the light spectrum. His personal favourite was an emerald green that matched his star-shaped pendant…

"Follow me, Hadrian," Luna's mum airily told him as she ascended the spiralling, wrought-iron staircase smack in the middle of their house from the living-room (where Xeno seemed to do most of his work for _'The Quibbler'_ , a Wizarding newspaper) into Luna's bedroom. The two kids followed her, until all three went past it and the small master bedroom. They entered the topmost room through a trapdoor.

It was mostly empty, with cauldrons stacked in a pile near the sole door by the wall instead of the center and a shelf filled with Potion ingredients next to it.

"Lets get to it," Pandora said kindly, softly clapping her hands together.

Luna tugged on the woman's flowery shirt. "Mummy, can I brew Potions too?"

"No, sweetie. But you can watch Hadrian do it."

Where any other child would have pouted or otherwise let their displeasure be known, Luna merely nodded in acceptance and hugged her mum thanks before standing by the doorway to watch.

Harry looked on with interest as Pandora moved one cauldron to the middle of the room next to a Bunsen-burner apparatus of sorts (which he would soon discover did not actually use gas because Magical folk were pants at Science). He moved forward, pulling the Potions book out from under his crimson shirt.

"Well, Moon-Warrior," Pandora said, waving her hand in the direction of the ingredients, "help yourself. If you have trouble, tell me." She walked to the only window of the room and sat down cross-legged. The Lovegood matriarch started to mutter under her breath, waving her wand in specific patterns.

Harry stared. _What's the point of having a teacher who doesn't teach?_ With a shrug, he returned his attention to the cauldron and book. Deciding on trying the Cure for Boils first, the blond gathered all of the ingredients and set to work.

After adding porcupine quills, Harry ended up half-covered in exploded Potion. Painful boils erupted on his hands and arm, prompting him to hiss at the pain.

Pandora stopped what she was doing and told Luna to fetch the antidote in a tone of voice akin to Harry pondering the merits of eating two ice creams instead of just one. Her daughter hurrying off, Pandora approached Hadrian and Vanished the spilled Potion with a silent wave of her wand. "You put too much in. Potions are very specific; you need to be careful with what you add, how much and when."

"You could have said that earlier!" Harry snapped, his hot temper arising in reaction to the pain.

Luna returned with a jarful of a moss green salve. Her mother did not protest when the little girl knelt next to Hadrian and slathered Cure for Boils on him. "Thanks, Luna," he said gratefully, anger diminishing.

 _"A friend in need is a friend indeed,"_ Luna sang quietly, then addressed Pandora: "Mummy, do you think the Wrackspurts that Daddy mentioned yesterday muddled up Hadrian's head? I don't think any Nargles come in here." Those Creatures muddled up people's thoughts rather than nicking stuff like those pesky Nargles.

"Probably. Why don't we all have cookies for a snack?"

"Yay!" Harry stared at Luna, bewildered at the almost peppy exclamation and loud clapping. She ignored his look, grabbing the male child by the just-stained purple T-shirt he wore over his shirt.

Harry was startled at how strong such a petite kid could be, dragging him out of the Experimenting Room to the stairs. _What've I gotten myself into?_

As the winter holidays neared, a very busy Harry learned a lot visiting the Lovegoods daily after school (after the first two, he spent all weekends back at Little Whinging to practice his Magic, play with local kids and do **piles** of homework). If not brewing Potions, the 'shape-shifter' would play with Luna. He loved the carefree moments most with how hectic his life had become this school year.

Harry had managed to follow the recipe of Cure for Boils perfectly in just a few lessons by double- and triple-checking his book throughout the process, noting that having the ingredients ready for use before he started brewing would make the process far easier considering the similarities to cooking. The blonde then spent a couple weeks experimenting by weighing less and more dried nettles than the recipe asked for, and stewing the horned slug for far longer than necessary. By the end of the first month, the 7-year-old managed to brew a Cure for Boils without anything going wrong despite his disastrous attempts so far. The two pages in his textbook containing the recipe were filled with scribbled notes on improvements, copied as a final version from the notebook with several of its pages covered in all his experimentation along with all the good and not-so-good results.

At one point, Harry had started designing a scent-filter that would be small and easy to put into his nostrils but had microscopic holes to lessen choking hazard. Invisibility would be good too, so that Luna's parents would not start asking annoying questions… Although, from what he had seen of the Lovegoods, that was probably the last thing any of those three would do. Unless Luna's dad mistook the sent-filter for some tiny Magical Creature, of course.

On his way home from St Ottery Catchpole on the second last day of November 1987, Harry attached a sticky note on his Journal reminding him to buy a copy of _'Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them'_ toward the end of winter. Luna was watching from her bedroom window, waving until Hadrian vanished behind a hill.

Life was good.

* * *

"Hi, Mrs Figg! Let me help you," Harry J. Potter offered as on the cold and cloudy late afternoon of Monday, but that fact did nothing to dampen his mood. The miniature James with tamed yet messy mop of hair and Lily's pretty eyes jogged over to his former babysitter struggling to balance two heavy plastic bagfuls of groceries.

She smiled fondly. "Why, thank you, lad. I'm afraid my old bones are getting rather annoying."

"Happy to help," he grunted back with a smile, pulling the plastic bags higher a bit as he went to the front door. Once Mrs Figg had unlocked it, the ravenette carried them inside and set them on the old sofa.

Mrs Figg set about making tea and laid newly-bought biscuits on a plate. She placed it on her small dining table, insisting Harry have some. "Dear, it has been quite some time since I last saw you. Even Mr Paws misses you, and you know how difficult he likes to be."

Harry dunked a biscuit in his tea, looking apologetic. "Sorry, Mrs Figg. I got so caught up in playing and studying that I just got too busy to come."

"That's all right then, Harry. I'm glad you are enjoying yourself, as children should." They shared a smile, the bespectacled boy resolving to visit the elderly cat lady after school more often.

On his way to Nr 4 from Mrs Figg's, Harry pocketed his faux glasses and added the dark red highlights to the mess of hair as well as golden blonde tips to his fringe. Eyes turned from light emerald to hazel that deepened to molten gold tinted the slightest bit crimson as he hummed a bouncy, if rebellious, tune from a movie(?) made by Disney's company that somehow did **not** exist even though some of the others did. His volume rose to solemn singing as he opened his bedroom window to let the young snowy owl in:

 _"Don't let them in,_

 _Don't let them see,_

 _Be the good kid you always have to be,_

 _Conceal,_

 _Don't feel,_

 _Don't let them know…"_

Hedwig hooted, then nipped his ear from the shoulder she had flown onto. The fluff-ball's grey feathers were slowly but surely starting to turn paler.

The tricoloured boy giggled, at once cheering up as his eyes returned to normal. "Glad you like it, Hed'. Today I'm gonna introduce Luna to the wonders of Walt Disney." Hedwig still on his shoulder, he Teleported.

* * *

"I like Elsa," Luna told Hadrian. He had just finished explaining, with aid from several of the old drawings and many notes written in class when bored these past two years, the concepts of Disney's stories.

Packing them away, Harry replied: "Me too, though I think Flynn Ryder is one of the best characters." _But I can't help wondering how I found out about them in the first place, since well over half these things don't exist. Though 'The Black Cauldron' came out a couple years ago, and so did 'The Great Mouse Detective' in July last year._

 _It's all so strange; I've just had all this stuff for as long as I can remember. Did Mum and Dad give them to me before they died? Probably not if those letters I used to write are anything to go by…_

"Don't worry, Harry. One day you will learn where those stories come from." At Luna's offhand comment, the strange little boy lost his balance from shock and hit the dirt with a yelp.

Wincing, Harry rubbed the back of his head before looking at his companion in alarm. "What did you call me?"

Luna giggled. "Silly, Harry. I didn't call you anything."

"Yes, you **did**! Just… how do you know that name?"

"Mummy told me."

Harry's eyes widened in fear, flashing from their current stormy gray colour to their original light emerald that then changed into a shade of deep red reminiscent of blood. " **Wha** –? How–? W-when did you find out?" In his panic, the 7-year-old's hair turned a myriad of colours before settling on an anxious violet. He knew none of this.

"Mummy said she could See you look like Mr James Potter and Miss Lily Evans, but sometimes you like to look like one over the other, or like Misters Sirius Black and Remus Lupin."

Harry gaped. Eventually, he found his voice: "…S-so your mum knows who I am? And my parents?" He was going to ignore the part about Black and Lupin for now.

Luna nodded, humming the beginning of 'Belle' (one of the songs Harry had taught to her in the time they had been friends). She did not respond when he again asked how exactly Pandora found out. At Harry's frustrated **growl** , the slip of a girl took his hand and moved to get up.

For a moment, Harry contemplated letting Luna keep tugging. _No, that's too mean. I'm a delinquent, not a bully._ He pushed himself off the ground with his free hand and, guided by Luna towards the Lovegoods' house, straightened his backpack.

 _I hope I'll finally get some answers._

The two children were soon sitting in the slightly cramped kitchen with cups of steaming tea on their laps. Pandora set down her own cup after a long sip. Her eyes met Harry's, and she smiled. "You have her eyes, Moon-Warrior. And will to learn."

His breath hitched. "Y-you really knew my mum?"

Pandora leaned back on the chair, glancing at Luna fondly before turning her attention back to the distraught child. Thankfully, the drop of Calming Draught she had added into his tea was starting to take effect.

"That is true. I was a Fourth Year when Lily came to Hogwarts. Hair as red as blood and eyes putting emeralds to shame, she was Sorted into Gryffindor." Harry made a mental note to research the two unfamiliar words; he was sure he'd heard them in passing during one of his numerous trips to Diagon Alley.

"Lily was a bright student, always trying to learn more and helping her classmates. She became particularly close with a year older Gryffindor girl named Alice Meadows and the boy who became that man known as Remus Lupin." Harry frowned at such odd wording in regards to the ragged guy, taking a mouthful of tea. He shrugged the thought to be contemplated later.

To Harry's concern, Pandora's eyes suddenly became glassy. Luna placed a hand on his shoulder to silently signal there was no need to rise from his chair or call out to her mother. As five minutes later Pandora snapped out of whatever daze she'd just entered, Harry wondered under his breath what the heck just happened.

Pandora looked at him thoughtfully, as if weighing the pros and cons of an important decision. Eventually, she gave a gentle smile. "Harry, would you like to see your parents?"

Eyes widening, he nodded.

* * *

They arrived in Godric's Hollow via Apparating, Harry and Luna looking a bit green in the face at the uncomfortable sensation. "Luna, remind me to teach you how to Teleport sometime," the little wizard muttered, hair midnight black for now even as his eyes unknowingly remained crimson. Hedwig let out a small squawk of agreement.

Clad in a thick winter cloak that matched Luna's cyan one, Pandora took them by hand and started leading her charges away from the edge of Harry's 'first' home.

Harry fell to his knees, disbelief, horror and sorrow forming a wild tempest in his chest as the child stared wide-eyed at the gravestone in front of him. He did not even notice his hair unconsciously tinting blue before slowly lightening.

"Dad…?" The ravenette blinked rapidly, lower lip wobbling. He reached out and brushed his fingers across the name _'James Cepheus Potter'_. Vision misty from tears, hazel eyes turned to the gravestone depicting final resting place of _'Lily Rose Evans'_ and changed to light emerald. Heart heavy, Harry could feel the presence in his mind raging in grief with someone's attempts at restraining rapidly weakening.

Terror and guilt prompted him to scramble away from the grave, turn and run – hair swiftly turning colours again before settling on a dull shade of turquoise.

Harry raced out of the graveyard and past pedestrians, not stopping even when he bumped into someone. He kept running almost like hoping that putting distance between himself and his parents' graves would somehow alleviate the storm of emotions inside himself. As if the snarls and agitated pacing only he could hear were not bad enough, his Magic was all but lashing out at anyone even remotely close.

Hidden in a random alley, Harry did not see people in auburn uniforms appearing out of thin air with a 'crack' each. He Shadow-Teleported, desperately thinking: _I gotta get outta here!_

* * *

Remus returned to his deceased parents' shabby cottage to find a greenish-haired Hadrian curled up on the doorstep. He knelt down, frowning in concern at the sudden paleness and dry tear tracks on the boy's cheeks.

The Werewolf gently lifted him so that the child would not wake up sore, hand on the back of Hadrian's head and neck to support it (like he had done with baby Harry) to prevent the 7-year-old's head from flopping down with a sudden jerk. To his confusion, the boy seemed to unconsciously relax at once.

Hearing hooting in the distance, Remus partially turned to see a familiar snowy owl approaching.

* * *

Harry groaned, eyes fluttering open. Noticing from the scent that he was on a sofa inside what could only be Lupin's place, he glanced at his messy fringe to find it had been turned blond by someone else's Magic. Nose scrunching up in concentration as always, the kid made sure his eyes were **definitely** coloured stormy gray.

"Are the Wrackspurts bothering you?" At Luna's wistful voice, Harry turned his head to find his best human friend sitting cross-legged on the floor next to him with Hedwig attempting to use her shoulder as a perch.

He looked away, sniffling as the memory of seeing physical proof of his parents' death flashed through his mind. Harry shut his eyes tight, trying but failing to keep the bright green light and high-pitched laughter out of his mind.

At the familiar scent of tree bark and buttercups, he calmed down and opened his eyes to find Luna hugging him with Hedwig hopping onto the sofa's armrest to nuzzle his other cheek. The small arms around his torso tightened, and Harry shifted to embrace the odd girl while resting his left cheek against his best animal friend's middle.

 _…_ _No. I'm not alone anymore._

* * *

A.N.: I love Luna. She wasn't supposed to come in yet, but I couldn't help myself. (Am I the only one who thinks Luna used the word 'like' too much during one of her conversations with Harry in this chapter?)

The Warrior part of the semi-title 'Moon-Warrior' is a tribute to Lily, because Evans means 'young warrior'. Also, hint on why Harry subconsciously sought Remus' comfort.

Speaking of which, did the reintroduction of Remus seem forced?

Spoiler alert: In a few Chapters we'll be in Hogwarts. But I will **not** follow the canon format of Yr 1-Yr 7, since all my other H.P. fics do so.

To pietro: I added the seemingly random short scene because revealing the details of how Harry got hurt & why straight away would be boring. *smirks evilly* You'll find out in less than a dozen Chapters what had happened to him.


	10. B1 Chapter 10

**Chapter 10. The Marauders?**

* * *

Ending the hug from Luna, Harry's gaze swept around the living-room to take in its threadbare furniture. His eyes halted upon spotting Lupin and Pandora, the former sitting on a lovely old rocking chair and the latter having taken a seat on the sole armchair.

Cheeks flaming, the 7-year-old sat up. He absentmindedly scratched Hedwig's chest when she hooted indignantly at suddenly being jostled about. "…Umm, hi?"

Remus stared at the boy he barely knew with an unfathomable expression. _I care for him_. The sudden realization alarmed the Werewolf. _Even when his mother will, surely, tell me to bugger off… I can't stay away. Somehow I love him like I loved Harry._

His face darkened as Remus remembered how he had abandoned James and Lily's son out of grief. _I should have fought for Harry more. I should have kept looking for him– NO! After what I did to an innocent civilian, after being the worst 'godmother' in the world… I have no right to neither Harry nor Hadrian! Not a_ _ **monster**_ _like me._

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it. Although he could tell from across the small room how messed up the man's feelings were at the moment, there was probably nothing he could say to make Mr Lupin feel better. Especially not without first knowing what was the matter.

"Well," Pandora said, gracefully rising to her feet and clapping her hands together (eliciting a simultaneous wince from Harry and Remus, which only served to amuse her for some unfathomable reason), "it is time Luna and I go home. Hadrian, Remus here was close to both of your parents." Before the 'shape-shifter' could protest, he was left alone with only his deceased parents' friend and Hedwig for company.

Harry took small comfort in the fact that Mr Lupin was not any more thrilled about this than himself.

Remus cleared his throat awkwardly. "W-would you… like a cuppa? Or something…?"

Harry slowly nodded, idly moving Hedwig to sit on his lap while avoiding the bigger wizard's eyes.

As Remus returned with tea for both of them, Harry quietly thanked him for it. They sat in awkward silence until the 7-year-old broke it: "How'd you know 'em?" Cheeks reddening at his outburst, Harry sank down a bit as if to hide.

"Erm…" the Werewolf looked bewildered for a good few minutes before rallying himself. "What, exactly, are your parents' names?"

"…" _No, I won't risk tellin'. Mum must've gone to all that trouble for a reason._

As the silence stretched between them, Remus leaned back in his seat and drank tea to occupy himself. Hadrian bit his lip, greatly hesitating. Eventually, the older of the two relented. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Hadrian. But your family is probably getting worried."

Harry shrugged, helplessly confused on what he should do. _Do I tell him something? Should I just keep quiet? AARGH,_ _ **why**_ _did Luna's mum bring me here?!_

At last, the kid spoke up again: "Do you know the Potters? And Blacks?"

Remus swallowed thickly. Finally he nodded. "Yes, I did. The Potters were good friends of mine, while I have known the Blacks mostly in passing."

Fidgeting, Harry touched the picture in his pocket before a small, hopeful smile appeared on his face as the 7-year-old came up with an idea. "Then you knew Uncle James?"

"True." Looking melancholic, Remus began explaining how he had met James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew during their Sorting into Gryffindor House at Hogwarts. How he never approached them unless spoken to, often hiding in the library with occasional visits from Lily Evans. Harry's smile grew at how his whatever-Lupin-was-to-him grew more animated as the man described James and Sirius' antics, light forest green eyes misting from emotion.

"The four of us were known as The Marauders ever since the end of First Year, when we Charmed everyone's hair to red, green, yellow or blue. And left a giant banner behind to claim credit for our handiwork." Remus snorted, though behind the fond amusement in his eyes was grief he could not hide.

The scarred man abruptly cut himself off, looking embarrassed. "Sorry. I suppose it has been too long since I had anyone to talk to."

Hadrian grinned with a tinge of sadness and another emotion Remus was not sure of. "It's fine, Mr Lupin. After losing Mum, I used to write letters to her an' Dad pretending they will one day read them. I know what it's like to be alone." He sounded guilty.

The following silence was far less awkward than earlier somehow. Giving the little boy an empathetic look, Remus offered: "You are welcome to drop by here anytime you want." _Well, except on the full moon._ "I am uncertain on how much I can tell you about Sirius, but…"

Harry smiled in gratitude as the tired man trailed off. "I'd like that."

Hedwig on his shoulder, the young wizard was escorted outside. Harry waved to Mr Lupin before Teleporting home. Leaving behind a gaping Werewolf.

* * *

The next two weeks, Harry added visiting Mr Lupin every second day after school into his busy schedule. Since the ragged man was working dead-end jobs in daytime, he was quite happy for the quiet company of his friend's son. Remus would tell the child about his days at Hogwarts with Lily and the rest of The Marauders while Hadrian was doing homework from school ( _Are primary students supposed to be writing an essay on Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet?_ he silently wondered once) and gasping, laughing or making sarcastic remarks at the appropriate points. It surprised them both how comfortable the pair were around each other. Almost like they were family…

On December 14th 1987, Harry once again Teleported to the front door of Lupin Cottage. He took a deep breath, then walked in through the unlocked front door. The time Harry had learned from Remus that it would only be locked when the scarred male needed it to flashed through his mind.

"Hadrian!" said person greeted him with a wide smile that made the tired face seem much more age-appropriate, nodding from where he was walking out of the kitchen into the living-room with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate. Both felt and looked much better than they had ten days ago.

The young 'shape-shifter' fidgeted as he sat down on the sofa, his older friend sitting next to him at an appropriate distance. "Hi, Remus. Can I ask you a question?" he questioned politely as the kid tapped Remus on the shoulder.

"May you," the brunette gently corrected.

Harry stared at him in confusion before understanding it. _Oh! If I use 'can', I'm saying am I capable of asking a question; using 'may' instead means I'm asking for whether it's allowed. As much as I dislike asking anybody's permission, I suppose it's better than seeming like a polite idiot._ " **May** I ask you a question, Remus?"

The Werewolf chuckled good-naturedly. "Go ahead."

"Umm… We-ell… Are you bad at brewing Potions coz all the smells give you such a strong headache that it's hard to concentrate?"

Hot chocolate sloshed out of its mug, the scalding liquid dripping to the carpet-less floor from Remus' lap. He cursed, realized he had just done so in front of a child, and mentally repeated it. The 27-year-old pulled off his robes and wiped at the hot chocolate on his patched-up denim jeans. Pretending to focus all his attention on this task, he casually asked: "What gave you that idea, Hadrian?"

The kid shrugged. "Just seemed plausible. You **are** a Werewolf, aren't you?"

Said man froze, the robes slipping from his fingers. He slowly turned his head to look at the child in trepidation. "You know…?" Remus' voice had gone almost hoarse, gold bleeding into his soft, light forest green eyes as the wolf inside grew agitated in response to the rising blood pressure.

He did not expect to see the cheeky grin nor the mischievous tone with which Hadrian answered: "Yup!"

Remus rubbed his face with a resigned sigh. He looked at his cub, then down at the stained hand-me-down robes. A snort escaped. Followed by a laugh at the irony of history all but repeating itself.

 ** _"Hey, Remmie!" 12-year-old Remus J. Lupin looked up from his Herbology textbook, having already started on one of the first pieces of homework assigned that year. He was sitting on a plush red armchair with gold trimmings, in a corner slightly away from everyone else._**

 ** _Sirius Black III bounded over, another pale boy but with a heart-shaped face close behind. The fourth boy was half a head shorter, his mousy brown-blond hair neatly combed. Which James C. Potter promptly ruined by trying to give the other boy a noogie halfway on their approach of the sandy-haired kid._**

 ** _"James! Let me go! Not everyone likes to have your bird-nest hairstyle!"_**

 ** _"Aw, c'mon, Pete! Live a little!"_**

 ** _Sirius flopped down on the right armrest, somehow making the move appear more elegant than should be possible. "Sooo…"_**

 ** _Remus sighed in mock-disappointment, lips twitching into a small smile as he put the book his black satchel. "What is it, Sirius?"_**

 ** _The ravenette opened his mouth, but before a word could come out he got hit in the face by a balled-up sock. Sirius jumped, grabbing the falling sock and tossing it over his shoulder. "Yeesh, Jamie! If you wanted to loan your Quidditch kit, you could have just asked."_**

 ** _The Potter Scion came to stand near to his first and closest friend, snickering at said friend's affronted look. "Really, Sear, I don't think here is the best place."_**

 ** _"Best place for what?" Peter Pettigrew wondered out loud, looking between his 'heroes' in confusion._**

 ** _Sirius guffawed, no hint of a bark in his rather pleasant, slightly accented voice. "Really, Pete? You were in you-know-where with us." The four had quickly gained quite the reputation as troublemakers, though Remus was the best-behaved out of them by far and Peter preferred to watch rather than participate most of the time. James and Sirius, however, were notorious for their mischief, misbehaviour and_** _apparent_ _ **hatred of the library. Which was why they only went there under the ancient Invisibility Cloak, a Potter family heirloom James had received for his 11th birthday last year.**_

 ** _A girl, with crimson hair that was yet to darken in age and dimples on her rosy cheeks, slammed her own copy of_ 'One Hundred Magical Herbs and Fungi' _shut. Light emerald eyes had widened in realization but now narrowed, suspicious._**

 ** _Noticing this, James promptly grinned at her. "Evans! Do you need help with the assignment Minnie set us yesterday? I would be happy to–"_**

 ** _"I don't want your help, Potter!" Lily snapped, tucking the book under her arm and standing up from where she had been sitting next to a faintly plump girl with chestnut hair. The redhead moved closer, continued: "And don't you or Black_** _dare_ _ **pick on Remus, or I'll hex you!"**_

 ** _Now James looked baffled, while Sirius figured out immediately what Evans was getting at. "You know?!" Still straddling the armrest, he gave the brunette boy a wounded look. "You told_** _her_ _ **but not us?"**_

 ** _Dread filled Remus. In a panic, he did the only thing he could think of – flee. Grabbing his satchel, the young Werewolf sped through the common-room and out of the portrait hole._**

 ** _"Remus!" his friends exclaimed, Lily about to run after him as the three boys did but restrained by her only female friend. The redhead looked at the brunette with a betrayed expression. "He's my friend, Alice, and the only half-descent one of those boys."_**

 ** _Alice Meadows kept holding on to Lily's arm, her expression an odd combination of nervousness and determination. "Leave them, Lily. I don't know what's going on, but this is clearly between the boys."_**

 ** _"But–"_**

 ** _"You're making a scene."_**

 ** _Glancing around, only now did Lily take notice of how every Gryffindor present was staring at them. Face matching her hair, she sat down and hid behind her Herbology textbook._**

 ** _Meanwhile, the boys had reached Remus in a narrow secret passage. Sirius knocked him over with a tackle, then moved off while hanging onto Remus' left arm with all his might. "Rem', calm down," James said, moving a bit past the downed pair so the thin brunette could not escape further down the passage. Peter stood just behind them, panting._**

 ** _"You're a Werewolf, aren't you?" Sirius spoke up after a moment of silence._**

 ** _Surprisingly, it_** _was_ _ **possible for Remus' face to go whiter than it already had at being trapped. He trembled, holding back the urge to cry as he whispered dejectedly: "You know."**_

 ** _"Yup!" came the surprisingly cheery response._**

 ** _"What?" Peter murmured, horrified._**

 ** _James knelt near the sandy-haired kid, patting him on the shoulder comfortingly (purposely ignoring the way Remus flinched away from the contact). "It's all right, Remus. We don't care if you were Snivellus'_** _hair_ _ **, you're still our best friend."**_

 ** _"Yeah. Besides…" Sirius fumbled for his wand, then held it up near his heart. "I, Sirius Orion of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, swear on my Magick that I will never speak of your, Remus Lupin's, lycanthropy without your express permission." A silvery stream of light floated from the tip of his wand to cover him completely. Sirius then got off Remus, re-pocketing the thin piece of wood._**

 ** _Remus let out a half-sob half-laugh, muttering: "You didn't have to do that."_**

 ** _"We want to," James stated matter-of-factly, at once getting at what his best friend meant by this. He too did the Oath (using his title as Scion Potter rather than his full name), amethyst in place of silver._**

 ** _The pair looked at Peter expectantly. Shoulders hunched, he did so too. The light was a tangerine-brown colour this time._**

 ** _Remus stared at them disbelievingly, amazed at how he could have found such loyal friends._**

"Mr Lupin…?" Remus snapped back to the present at the uncertain, childish voice. Hadrian was looking at him with concern that, strangely enough, reminded him a LOT of Lily.

The sandy-haired male's shoulders sagged, and he nodded. "You really are a brilliant child, Hadrian… I'm afraid that I really am a Werewolf."

His younger friend shifted uneasily, though he did not appear to be scared at all. On the contrary, a small, happy smile appeared briefly on the heart-shaped face before he hid it by taking a sip of hot chocolate. Hadrian then nodded. "OK. Could you tell me about that? What is it like, how long you've been one… stuff like that?"

Remus sighed again, rubbing his face. He began his story.

 ** _Toddler Remus woke up in agonising pain localized to his left shoulder, ears ringing at the sound of his parents crying and arguing. He soon learned that the hairy man who had been lurking in the nearby woods yesterday evening was named Fenrir Greyback. The same Fenrir Greyback whom Lyall Lupin had publically insulted and spoken of with hatred at the Ministry of Magic a few weeks ago.–_**

 ** _An incredibly nervous, 11 years old Remus J. Lupin was sitting alone in a compartment of Hogwarts Express wearing a second-hand set of the school uniform. The thin preteen was all but hiding behind Hope Lupin née Howell's old copy of 'Hogwarts: A History'.–_**

 ** _"So what's your name?" the messy-haired kid asked their last dorm-mate. James C. Potter had just introduced himself and Sirius Black III, followed by a shy boy named Peter Pettigrew. Remus responded with his name so quietly that the others did not hear.–_**

 ** _The four were snickering at Severus "Snivellus" T. Snape's ridiculous new hat, which 12-year-old James had Conjured a moment ago. Sirius had added a Sticking Charm to it, while Remus and Peter's job had been making it lively.–_**

 ** _Remus berated his three friends for daring to attempt something so risky just for him. Inwardly touched, the young Werewolf was horrified and guilty at the others likely ending up dead, in Azkaban or permanently disfigured because of him. Unfortunately, it was not as though he could stop them from finishing the process.–_**

Remus cleared his throat awkwardly after finishing. "Erm, Hadrian, was there any reason in particular you wanted to ask about my… lycanthropy?"

Harry shook his head. "No." A lie, and they both knew that. Remus just had no idea exactly how much of one it was.

The 'shape-shifter' finished his cup of hot chocolate while talking to his big friend about education, both Magical and Non. He then got up, thanked Remus for the warm drink and walked out to Teleport into his room.

Remus' thoughtful gaze followed the 7-year-old.

* * *

A.N.: Yes, I know Remus was not present in the Gryffindor common-room after running out from there, but I use flashbacks the way cartoons and anime use them – a scene from the past, not JUST a memory someone is remembering.

To CaptainGemStone: Canon Harry sucked at Occlumency, for which Snape's abusive teaching methods and Voldemort's Horcrux were at fault. Regardless, canon Harry seemed to be a natural Legilimens. So I'm basing my Harry's Mental Magic abilities on all of that.

To Ddragon21: Thanks for your great reviews, but I don't have any plans for Harry having romantic relationships since it's doubtful I can write those well enough.

Harry's Magical skills are up to these spells: **Wind** (Aero, Aerora, Aeroga); **Colour-Change** (Colovaria); **Notice-Me-Not** ; **Light Orb** (Lumos, Lumos Duo); **Unlock** (Alohomora); **Shadow-Teleportation** ; **Repair** (Reparo); **Teleport** (sub-form of Shadow-Teleport); **Legilimens** ; a spell not revealed yet; **Heal** (Cure, Cura). It all took 3 YEARS to learn!

P.S. Fun fact: in this Potterverse, _'One Hundred Magical Herbs and Fungi'_ is the predecessor edition of _'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi'_.


	11. B1 Chapter 11

**Chapter 11. Grim, Old Place**

* * *

The winter holidays spent with Remus and the Lovegoods could only be described with one word: **amazing**.

Harry discovered that some folks with Magic celebrated Christmas, others rejoiced on Hanukkah (which he had heard of from those classmates whom were Jewish) or had their celebrations at a different time of the year due to their respective religions. However, **most** old Magical families celebrated the Winter Solstice holiday – Yule.

Xeno taught Harry about the ancient custom of performing a sacrifice on the winter solstice. "We all gather together – you, me, my lovely Pandora and sweet little Poppet, and Remus – to feast on delicious food," the man with long, dirty blonde hair finished his explanation.

"I will perform the sacrifice ritual to thank Magic for everything and ask for our family to prosper another year," Pandora added from where she was making snowflake decorations with Luna out of pale blue fabric. Harry glanced down at his own, still a little confused by the whole thing after six years of loneliness but nevertheless eager to learn.

He, Luna, her dad and Remus watched the Ritual be performed, though the two men had kept the children busy preparing for the feast inside the cavern while a horse was slain by Pandora and its blood drained into a large goblet for the ritual before the meat was set aside to boil in a kettle above an open fire. As the skin of the flaming corpse blackened in a separate fire and Luna's mum chanted in Gaelic as well as one or two other Old languages, Harry exchanged a mystified look with his best human friend. But Luna merely nodded at him with a serene smile.

Carrying five twigs (of a specific wood) dipped in horse blood, Pandora approached the others and drew an Ancient Rune on the forehead of each participant. Xeno took the last twig to draw one onto her forehead. Next everyone repeated the name of the Rune they had been given seven times, speckles of embers dancing around them.

Harry felt his own Magick join the surrounding one which had arisen with that smoke moments ago, a tranquil smile on the lightly tanned face.

As the flying embers died down and the flowing Magic settled to a low hum, everyone sat down on a winter-themed blanket with a banquet of fruit bowls and meat plates from the first two animals to be sacrificed (a chicken and a cow). The horse meat added onto empty plates by Xeno, Pandora set about serving her family and new friends a bit of everything.

Both Luna and Harry were allowed a sip of wine each, and everybody toasted first to Magic, then for peace and lastly their lost loved ones. _Hlaut, hlautbolli, hlautteinar… Yule sounded weird and kinda creepy at first, but now I'm so happy I got to take part in such a beautiful tradition._ Harry leant against Remus, soaking in the feeling of Magic and camaraderie.

The Werewolf looked down with a fond smile, relaxed despite having been slightly unfamiliar with the holiday after not celebrating it for nearly a decade. _James, Lily… Harry… If only you all could have been here with us._

Once everyone was full, Pandora cast a Stasis Charm on the food to keep it fresh (so it could be consumed for breakfast the next morning). They exchanged gifts as Xeno played a lively yet graceful tune on a lute and Pandora hummed. The cooking fire merrily crackled along, giving their sole light under the new moon.

* * *

The next morning after a light breakfast, Harry returned to Privet Drive thinking how that had been a much more pleasant way to spend Christmas than sitting in his room at the Dursleys' eating a stolen piece of fruitcake.

Winter holidays with a Magical family opened Harry's eyes to just how blind he'd been for all of the past five months. Sure he and Draco exchanged letters through the pale boy's new owl Ares ever since he had written his 'cousin' last summer, but the titbits Harry gleaned from their short conversations did little to help him learn just how different the Magicals were from those Non-magical.

Resolving to correct this, the kid Shadow-Teleported someplace he could _learn about the Blacks_.

* * *

He landed into a dusty room. Harry coughed, then plugged his sensitive nose with the scent-filter.

The oddball of a child got up, realizing he must be in some sort of old library/lounge combination. It had long windows on one wall and, looking out of them, Harry found himself facing the street in front of this house. He turned around, wandering in the middle of bookshelves forming a sorta labyrinth, wiping a handful of dust off one of the numerous plush chairs and sturdy sofas dotted in the midst of the ridiculously tall shelves filled to the brim with books. Harry found a large fireplace tucked into a corner of the spacious room, seemingly made of black marble or perhaps onyx. His interest was quickly captured by the thin tree, with numerous branches, covering one long stretch of wall.

A closer look revealed it was not thick wallpaper, but a tapestry depicting a family tree. Harry looked from one name to the next, noting that the majority were stars or constellations with the rest all having some meaning – Astronomical or otherwise.

Harry removed the scent-filter and had his eyes flutter shut, then visibly reeled at all the **Magic** around himself. It surrounded the kid, the strands of seemingly celestial energy (predominantly silver, though over half were showing all colours of the rainbow and then some) flowing in the ceiling, walls, floor and everywhere in-between.

Spending several minutes basking in the wondrous sense of Magick, Harry eventually 'spotted' an odd bit on the tapestry. Smack in the middle of all the lovely silver splashed with wisps of colour and the tiny holes signifying names that had been burnt off, as though it had been slapped there carelessly rather than woven into the fabric, was a light amber blob. Harry frowned, slowly moving forward as his arm flailed in the attempt to touch it.

His fingers seemed to slide off the blob, and it took quite a lot of tries before Harry managed to lay his palm flat against the tapestry. His eyes fluttered open, fluctuating between hazel and stormy gray before settling on the former.

He felt the spell – a **very** new one, relatively speaking – fade under his piercing gaze. Revealing…

"Dad?" There it was. His father's name.

Harry's stare crawled from James up the forked line linked to it, meeting the names _'Fleamont Charlus Potter'_ and _'Doradus Euphemia Potter'_. "My… my grandparents?"

He looked at their only child's again. Falling to the knees, Harry rested his forehead against the name. James Cepheus Potter. His **dad**.

Eyes fluttering shut, Harry could feel the surrounding Magic comfort himself. Then, bit by bit, familiar-ish strands of amethyst mixed with silver 'hugged' him. As they disseminated with the silver remaining for a split second before floating away, Harry felt inclined to follow.

Before he knew it, the lost boy found himself in an office of some sort (somehow not hurting himself on any physical objects on the way). He opened his eyes to look around. The office had no thin layer of dust or grime like the rest of the huge house, and gave the impression of being darkly elegant with its polished oak furniture.

"Don't just gawk there."

Harry jumped at the sudden voice, looking around wildly but seeing no people in sight. "Well, boy?" Identifying the direction the question came from, he moved towards the source without seeing it.

Curiosity aroused, Harry approached a portrait. It showed a pale, aristocratic man with wavy jet-black hair that had been tied back in a neat ponytail, his stormy gray eyes seeming nearly alive with how sharply he was looking straight at the 7-year-old.

"Don't even think about poking me."

Harry jerked his finger back with a startled yelp. "Y-you're alive?"

"Aesthetically speaking." Was it just him, or did the slightly accented voice hold a touch of contempt? Without smells it was hard to tell.

Remembering his manners, Harry chose to give a shallow bow seeing as he could not exactly shake the man's hand. This seemed to mollify the painting's occupant a little, though he was still clearly unimpressed.

"At least you are not a hopeless case like **him** ," the man admitted, sounding as though he considered this a great compliance on his part and Harry should be oh so very grateful for it.

"Leave the poor child alone, Orion! He is only what, five?"

"Seven," the tricoloured kid corrected with a hint of irritation, turning around to look for the lady. He made a mental note of there being over a dozen portraits in the room, each holding what could only be the man's family members.

"And what an adorable young man you are." The one who had spoken in his defence was a regal woman that could pass for the man's fraternal twin.

Harry ignored the man sniff, wandering over to her portrait. "Good afternoon, Ma'am. May ask for your name?"

"You may. But it is only polite to offer your own first," the woman gently chided, though her eyes were as sharp as the man's. Feeling like a naughty schoolboy, Harry murmured his primary school name. "Speak up, dear. And stand straight. What do people teach their children these days?"

Harry did so, repeating the name. He received a mix of reactions.

The woman appeared stunned before a smile – it was not particularly wide, but it was not small either – broke out on her beautiful face. "Harry Potter. My little Jamie had a son."

"Why am I not surprised? Only a **Potter** would show such disrespect." Orion earned a cold glare from his female relative for that comment, while the other portraits let known their agreeing, neutral or curious sentiments.

"Your Jamie? D'ya mean… you're my grandmother?" Harry asked the lady, though his heart seemed to already know the answer. The Magic that guided him… Had it been hers?

"I am."

Harry grinned.

* * *

Leaving the office – which turned out to belong to Orion's absent father – after chatting for ages with the portrait of his paternal grandmother ("I insist you call me Grandma Dorea, none of that 'madam' stuff from now on. Understand, dear?"), Harry wandered the rest of third floor in Grimmauld Place. Besides the office of Lord Black, he found a large room obviously belonging to the parents. It seemed to have been empty for a year or two if the king-size poster bed was any indication. The little explorer also came across two separate ensuite bathrooms for it. Interestingly, each of 'em had a 17th century look to them with some relatively modern touches. Harry also found a small (in relation to the master bedroom; it was **plenty** bigger than the open-plan living-room/kitchen back at Nr 4 Privet Drive) place which simply had to be the Nursery. The final door, next to a cupboard beginning to mould, led to the topmost floor of the Library.

Harry returned to the landing and climbed up the rather pretty staircase to the next floor, not in the least disappointed to only find two doors. One had a square-shaped sign hung above the threshold which read _'Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black'_.

The tri-coloured boy grinned, thinking: _I like this guy already!_

Emerald and silver draped the bed, walls and windows. A crest Harry assumed belonged to the Black Family had been painted over the bed – consisting of three jet-black ravens lined with silver forming a triangle, a snarling silver dog face lined by jet-black in the middle moulded to seem as though it was lunging out from amidst the birds in flight. Underneath the crest were carved words Harry recognized from the Family Tapestry, _'Toujours pur'_. Beneath the French words for "always pure" was a collection of newspaper cuttings stuck together, making a ragged collage that was beginning to yellow. Adorning one of the walls was a black and white photograph Harry was astonished to discover could move, featuring a crowd with what could only be a team of some Wizarding sport at the front. A handsome teenage boy who strongly resembled Orion was standing in the middle, smirking as he proudly waved a tiny golden ball in the air.

The other bedroom turned out to be pretty much opposite. On its door there was a nameplate that simply said _'Sirius'_ , presumably owner of this bedroom like Regulus was his. The room was spacious with a large bed that had a carved headboard, a tall window with long velvet curtains, and a candle chandelier. The walls of the room were covered with so many pictures that it was barely possible to see the wallpaper, and the rest of Sirius' room was decorated with crimson and gold banners in direct contrast to Regulus' emerald and silver. There also were posters of motorcycles and bikini-clad girls, making Harry blush prominently as a foggy image of a beach party floated through his mind. Books and papers had been strewn across the wooden floor as though a fight had occurred in this bedroom the last time it had been occupied. There was also a moving photo on the wall just above the wooden bedside cabinet, showing for teenage boys. Harry at once recognized one of them as his father, another as Regulus' brother Sirius. The sandy-haired boy could only be Remus, so that left only the short, pudgy guy with brown-blond hair and his arms slung on James' and Sirius' shoulders in a rather ridiculous manner unknown.

Harry traced the moving image of his teenaged father, smiling softly. He then unsuccessfully attempted to remove it so the Magical photo could be put into his denim overalls' pocket. Pouting in disappointment, the little boy resumed wandering around the room in search of something else about his parents but found nothing.

Snickering at the absurdity of Sirius' tastes, Harry returned to the third floor since the final one had nothing else interesting besides a trapdoor on the ceiling (which he would look at sometime later) and only housed the two brothers' rooms. Both had once been beautiful, with carved wooden headboards on the beds, velvet curtains, and fine wall hangings and furniture.

He then descended to the second floor to discover two guest bedrooms housing a former Lord Black in portrait form, each. Neither painted man talked to Harry, the stockier one of the two even narrowing his dark grey eyes in a suspicious glare at the child's moves. Each room had two twin beds and a wardrobe. Like the rest of the house, both were rather gloomy with lofty ceilings, and their respective doorknobs were snake-shaped. In a corner of one was a wastebasket (which Harry would soon learn **coughed** when Hedwig's droppings fell in it). Between the two guestrooms was a bathroom smaller and less stylish than the two ensuite ones above. Harry was startled to find a murderous Ghoul in the toilet, blasting it first with Aero and then Aerora when it attacked him. The kid ran out of there and slammed the door shut behind himself, slumping down in relief when the Creature didn't manage to follow. _Note to self, stay the hell away from this loo._

Next the first floor. An exquisite sitting room was there, looking like it once held grand tea parties. But the drapes were beginning to be moth-eaten and the furniture dusty. The 7-year-old wrinkled his nose as a tiny Magical Creature scuttled across the dark, wooden floor in some part of the room. It had large windows overlooking the street in front of the house, a large fireplace flanked by two ornate glass-fronted cabinets, and an entire wall covered by various landscape paintings. He left the dark drawing room to take a look at the other two rooms on this floor – the whole time ignoring the various Black portraits on each landing's walls.

Harry found another guestroom as spacious as the Nursery upstairs. A second portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, Orion's snarky – in Harry's opinion, anyway – great-great-grandfather, whose first portrait was in his former office like the rest of the main Black branch, was present in this bedroom above a writing desk.

From what Harry had learned listening to Grandma Dorea, this side of his family was HUGE if counted by generations. They kept track of everyone via that Family Tree in the Library, which showed only those born as a Black and their spouses. For example, Dorea had explained (with a few painted Blacks making comments sorely tempting her grandson to see whether his Magic could cause them excruciating pain) Harry and Lily were not present on the Family Tree because James did not carry his mother's maiden name and was known as a Potter. Furthermore, some Blacks' name on the tapestry had been burnt off as that Magically disowned them but not legally (for which a trip to Gringrotts was needed). And it only counted for the parent who did the disowning; if their spouse was not in agreement, the child only got Magically disowned on **that side** of their family.

Truth be told, Harry found the whole thing very confusing.

The imaginative child exited the guestroom and barely peeked into the third smaller bathroom in here before starting his descend along the next staircase to the ground floor. He could only gape at the odd heads decorating the three walls next to it, mounted on plaques. As he turned around, feeling the hairs at the back of his neck stand up, Harry wondered in a whisper: "What are they…?" _Creepy!_

He was just backing away from the lower set of stairs connecting the first landing to the ground floor, past a pair of thick drapes that lacked the dust and grime coating a bit most things in here, when a hoarse, deep voice rather like a bullfrog's made him jump: "Mudblood brat dares enter Black Ancestral Home without permission!"

Harry crashed into an umbrella stand he would later learn had been made out of an actual troll leg rather than merely looking like one. His raven locks and dark red highlights rapidly lightened to a startled pale orange before deepening to H. Black's golden blonde, though his hair remained in its messy bird-nest style. He blinked, eyes going from light emerald to stormy gray.

The drapes whooshed open, a portrait of a woman with light brown eyes and black hair tied up wearing an old style, lacy-sleeved dark dress visible now. She opened her mouth to (most likely) let loose angry screams.

Harry gaped as the source of that croaky voice waddled over to the painting and tried to soothe her. The Creature was likely an elderly house-elf, though he was disturbed to see it was completely naked save for a dirty loincloth made out of what might have once been a dishrag. Instead of a tennis ball green like Dobby's (the house-elf Harry had briefly met and heard of in passing from Draco), its eyes were a watery grey. Also unlike Dobby, this much older house-elf had a fleshy, rather snout-like nose rather than a narrow, pointed one.

"Kreacher is so sorry, Mistress. I's be shutting my ears on the oven door, I sure will! Kreacher will throw out the Mudblood, Mistress needn't worry–"

"A filthy MUDBLOOD is **contaminating** the House of my ancestors?!" the portrait cut her servant's apologies off.

"HEY!" Harry shouted, his hot temper flaring and eyes flashing between the usual choices of stormy gray, hazel, light emerald, molten gold and crimson before settling on H. Black's trademark eye colour. He rose to his feet, glaring at the portrait and stepping forward with little fists clenched tight. "Leave 'im alone! And I'm not a Mudblood; Dad is a **Black**!"

The painted woman scowled down at him, then looked the child over with a contemplative look. Her eyes locked with his. "Give my house-elf an order."

"Huh?" Harry's anger drained away in favour of confusion, though he was still a bit pissed at how mean she was.

The lady looked impatient. "Well, boy? We don't have all day."

Harry looked between the portrait and the house-elf before shrugging and speaking up uncertainly: "Kreacher, right? Go put on something more fitting."

The Creature clearly tried to disobey, but found that he couldn't. With a short bow and angrily muttered "Yes, Master", he Disapparated.

"You are my worthless blood-traitor of a son's spawn, aren't you?" Harry turned his gaze from the spot Kreacher had vanished from with a 'crack' to the portrait.

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

 _U-oh, she's looking impatient again!_ "Have you no manners, boy? State your name!"

"Hadrian Black," the 7-year-old snapped, scowling in increased annoyance.

Kreacher returned with another 'crack', now wearing a clean pillow case with the Family crest on it.

"Kreacher," the woman – Harry really needed to find out her name A.S.A.P. – addressed the house-elf, "you are to ensure my grandson knows how to properly carry the Family name as Heir."

"Yes, Mistress. Of course," the old house-elf croaked with a low bow. As the drapes closed, however, he shot Harry a look of intense dislike.

Only one thought came to the little wizard's mind: _I_ _ **really**_ _need to try an' quit jumping into these kinds of situations._

* * *

Harry decided to ditch the Dursleys in favour of living at Grimmauld Place, Teleporting back to Privet Drive only long enough to pack all he owned into numerous, varying bags. _I gotta learn a shrinking spell…_ He eventually returned after taking the last bag into one of the guest bedrooms, closing his bright green eyes and trying to sense whether something had been missed out.

 _Weird, I can feel Mum's Magic around the house. Either she put up Wards to protect Petunia, or the old coot made them with something of hers when he came here._ Little Harry had no proper recollection of that day, only somehow knowing a dangerous male senior citizen in too-bright robes knew where he lived and most likely had been the one to leave him on that doorstep.

Harry went outside the house, following his 'Magic sense' to find the source. It turned out to be one of the support stones of Number 4. Improvising, he used a pilfered fancy pocketknife to cut his left hand and then used his right index finger to smear a few drops of blood onto the stone just barley peeking out of the ground. _Transfer over to Grimmauld Place, transfer to Grimmauld Place, TRANSFER TO GRIMMAULD PLACE!_

Harry flopped down on the trimmed grass, absentmindedly Healing the cut. He was exhausted. _Hope it worked and I'll be callin' that house_ _ **home**_ _._

* * *

A couple hours later, Harry woke up feeling a little stiff from sleeping on hard ground. Nothing unusual though, considering the past half a year… He briefly visited the nice ol' Mrs Figg. Though her cats had not liked him since the week after his birthday, they at least were starting to get over their fear.

Next the little boy Teleported into Grimmauld Place and set about cleaning the guest room to be a bit more habitable. Kreacher vehemently protested to this; the house-elf clearly still disliked his new Master but found the mere thought of a wizard doing chores ghastly.

"Kreacher, it's **fine**. I want to clean; my relatives made me do it plenty enough." Despite him mumbling that last part, Harry was heard.

Que angry rant after Kreacher had managed to talk his "Little Master Hadrian" into confessing about the Dursleys' treatment of him. It took half an hour for the blond to convince the vengeful house-elf into keeping all knowledge of those particular Muggles to himself.

Night fell before he knew it, and Harry snuggled under the silky covers Kreacher had thrown onto the guest bed an hour ago. The little boy cuddled a Repaired red stuffed lion with a golden collar that had 'Leo' carved onto it, brushing the faux fur against his dimpled, rosy cheek smiling in content. With thoughts of his grandparents, birthparents, godfather (he found out what his true relationship with the man was after questioning Kreacher about his 'dad' and the man's connection to the Potters) and whatever-the-heck-Lupin-was-to-him whirling inside his mind.

 _Sleep well, Mum, Dad, everybody._

* * *

A.N.: Yeah, this Chapter has Rowling's pun as its title.

There is a reason beyond his eye colour and ability to command Kreacher as to why Walburga so easily believed Harry to be Sirius' son.

Votes on Harry's placement at Hogwarts (he will NOT start attending in 19 **91** , b.t.w.): Gryffindor 3; Ravenclaw 6; Hufflepuff 1; Slytherin 5.

P.S. I followed canon when describing Grimmauld Place as much as possible, but changed the location of the Family Tapestry from the drawing room on the ground floor to Library since it had already written it like that when this Chapter was first published.


	12. B1 Chapter 12

**Chapter 12. Family Friction**

* * *

The next morning Harry was confused when he woke up to an unfamiliar room as plain as his own but still obviously different. He blinked, blearily taking the sight in before yesterday's occurrences floated through his sleep-addled mind. _Grandma Dorea, Grimmauld Place, Kreacher… Oh, right!_ Grinning, the 7-year-old threw off the covers and leapt out of bed.

He slowly turned around to carefully set Leo down onto the bed. Next the slip of a boy quickly gathered his favourite clothes from atop the pile of bags containing the secretive young wizard's belongings. He absentmindedly packed a set of Dudley's clothes Petunia had thrown away back in November because of their wear and tear into his backpack, then got dressed in his own summery attire and took a moment to check on the medium ornate mirror stuck on a wall next to the chestnut drawers his appearance. The tricoloured mess he called hair easily turned golden blonde, eyes going stormy gray. Hadrian Black gave his reflection a thumbs up before bounding out of the guest room.

By peeking through a door at the far end of the entry hall underneath the second set of stairs (the grand staircase of Grimmauld Place zigzagged, smallish landings providing a halfway point between each set of steps), Harry discovered a set of narrow stone stairs. Following where it led, he found a very spacious, mostly mahogany wooden kitchen with a square-tiled floor which was coloured pastel brown covered in dust. He set about wandering the cavernous room, less ornate than the smaller ones Harry had seen above. Iron pots and pans hung from its ceiling.

The kid absentmindedly counted the wooden chairs – eight on each side of the light brown wooden table with an extra at one end as head – and then climbed onto the table to pretend he was walking on the plank of a pirate ship. Harry hopped down over the chair at the opposite end, landing in a squat in front of the large fireplace. He stuck his head into it, and promptly withdrew while sneezing violently from the old soot that had gone up his nose without the scent-filter protecting it. "Atchoo! A-ha-hah- **atchoo**!"

Harry rubbed his sore nose with a forearm, walking to the other end of the kitchen past the high wooden shelves with countertops and cupboards underneath to find just off the kitchen a dark pantry, large enough for an average-sized adult to stand in, as dusty as the rest of this disused place.

He also found another big cupboard off the kitchen, this one housing the boiler with a small door underneath it. Harry smelled it. _Must belong to Kreacher…_ So he backed away before turning on his heel to explore elsewhere. Passing the several cabinets lining the walls and a window looking into another section of the huge house, Harry turned halfway around to head back where he came from when his stomach rumbled.

A moment later, Harry was looking into the wooden drawers and lower cupboards for any food ingredients – a growing boy needed to eat, but this one had an appetite twice as big compared to his peers in both schools. He needed the energy to keep up with that hectic schedule of his, after all!

Clutching his stomach as it let the hunger be known again, Harry raised his lowered head and glanced around. His lips quirked in a smile. _Got an idea!_

The child yelped in a very puppy-like manner when Kreacher made his presence known. He fell clean off the chair he had been standing tiptoed on, having whirled around at the croaky voice. Harry unconsciously cast Cure to ease the aches he'd gained.

"Master Hadrian is a powerful wizard like kind Master Regulus!" the old house-elf quietly exclaimed in shock at the brief, tiny display of Non-verbal, Wandless Magic by the brat. His large eyes narrowed and he looked the boy over before waddling off.

"H-hey! Morning, Kreacher!" Said sentient non-human stopped in surprise at being addressed in such a friendly manner by the spawn of his poor Mistress' wayward excuse for a son. "I'm going shopping; is there anything in particular you want for breakfast?"

Kreacher turned around so fast Harry had to silently wonder how such a small guy (the house-elf was about a head shorter than him) didn't get whiplash or topple over from an action like that. The variety of expressions crossing his wrinkly face (not that Harry was an expert on house-elves; **far** from it) made the 7-year-old hope he had not broken Kreacher. He bit his lip at a vague sense of finding the thought amusing somewhere at the back of his mind.

 _That wasn't Hunter, was it? He's primal; not complex enough to think stuff. I hope…_

"Kreacher will prepare all meals for Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black," the house-elf declared, bowing deeply like he'd done to Walburga's portrait the day before.

 _Huh?!_ "You don' need to do that, Kreacher; I always cook for myself."

Apparently, any protests were taken as a personal offence. At least Harry managed to order the house-elf wait until he had stopped by someplace (coughed with the thought _Dursleys'_ ) for ingredients before being banished from the kitchen for half an hour. Harry came back in to find a hearty spread levitating through the air to land softly atop the dining table.

As Harry spent 6 hours after breakfast exploring Grimmauld Place from top to bottom again with a pale yellow (its default colour) Light Orb hovering by his shoulder, he found Kreacher's attitude was quite similar to last night but seemingly softening towards him. The little guy still disliked Harry on principle but seemed prepared to be civil and, at random moments, almost a mother hen before acting as though the very sight of his new Master disgusted him. It was both amusing and puzzling to the little 'shape-shifter'.

While exploring, Harry had his usual fruity snacks every hour or so – accompanied by a homemade hotdog with the sausage merely toasted ever since mid-August 1987. Kreacher kept Apparating carrying a trayful of said snacks to wherever the 7-year-old was at the time.

Harry was happy to wander around in the Library, practice every spell he had taught himself so far sitting on the first floor guestroom bed, chat with his paternal grandmother's portrait, and politely greet the various portraits scattered throughout the Blacks' mansion of a house – learning more titbits on British Wizarding Culture from them in form of insults save for Walburga's easy-going brother Alphard, whom appeared proud of Sirius having such an inquisitive 'son'. This reminded Harry that he needed to a) find out what had happened to his godfather and b) get Remus into Grimmauld Place, preferably by tonight, since he might need an adult's help one of these days again.

He took a seat on one of the old-fashioned sofas lining the walls of the huge ballroom located opposite the spacious dining room across the entrance hallway, absentmindedly musing: _This place would make a great home gym once it's been washed a bit._

Harry opened his Journal to a clean page. Grinning as he recalled how, the morning after Yule, Remus placed a Permanent Charm on it that allowed the paper **never** run out as a present to Hadrian. He hoped the adult Werewolf honestly liked the charcoal drawing of them rather than just pretending to in front of its giver and the Lovegoods in the early hours of yesterday morning; Harry had felt the scarred man's joy, amongst a mixture of emotions, at the carefully drawn picture but still worried it was too childish or something.

He unclipped the usual dark purple pen from his Journal's new pen-pocket and set about writing a 'Plan'. Several times, Harry stopped for many minutes to tap his chin with the pen's dull end or scribble a very simple, tiny cartoon drawing onto the page only vaguely relevant to the topic.

Eventually, the 7-year-old was satisfied with it. He snapped the Journal shut and told it to "go small", watching in fascination as the Magic placed into the bright book by Remus made it shrink to fit snugly in his palm. _I am SO learning that spell after finishing with Hear-Me-Not since I've learnt Lock so fast._

 ** _Before eating a simple supper voluntarily provided by a grumbling Kreacher, Harry stood in the ballroom he had found on the ground floor facing a plain box with a metallic keyhole (fetched by the house-elf when his young Master had wondered aloud where to find one). He lifted an index finger to point at it._**

 ** _"Unlock!" At once, a tiny spark that was all but invisible flew from his fingertip into the keyhole and there was a distinct 'click'. The box swung open, its top moving backwards to show the lack of contents within._**

 **I'll do the same, but in reverse,** ** _Harry thought as he again imagined he was Sora from the non-existent game 'Kingdom Hearts'. Except instead of opening treasure chests or doors, the imaginary Keyblade was pointed at the box – 'World Keyhole' – as Harry outstretched his hand while shifting to have his right side face the target with eyes glaring at it in concentration. "LOCK!"_**

 ** _A second spark shot to the box and it flew closed before giving another 'click'. Harry's stoic facade cracked as he grinned in pleased surprise at how easy that was compared to three years ago. "I_** _did it_ _ **!"**_

 ** _Another hour and a half passed perfecting the new spell along with a bit of extra practice at the older one. Once Unlock (Alohomora according to the Charms book he'd bought what felt like_** _ages_ _ **ago) and Lock (a.k.a. Serodis) had been used on the box and various doors throughout the mansion of a house repeatedly, Harry wandered into the mahogany dining room featuring a dresser holding the family's china – imprinted with its crest – with many more on display in the high shelves lining the wall opposite the dining room entrance. He sat on one of the numerous chairs along the long oak dining table with a brief glance upwards at the**_ ** _light fixtures hanging overhead_** ** _, pleasantly surprised by a plateful of sandwiches._**

The little boy hummed the beginning of 'Belle' with a happy smile as he recalled his practice last night. He hopped down from the chair, pocketing his shrunken Journal.

"Kreacher!"

'Crack!' "Yes, Master Harry?"

"I'm going out, but I promise to be back shortly. Is there anything you need?" Ignoring the you're-a-weirdo look – he received those on a near-daily basis this year – the messy-haired kid shocked his new friend by a hug before Teleporting away.

Arriving at the detached house's front steps, Harry burst into chuckles at Kreacher's gobsmacked expression. He then went for a short walk murmuring: "Lessons are resuming in a week and two days…"

At the end of a second street, Harry hid behind a trashcan in a side-street and easily Shadow-Teleported to the edge of Little Whinging. He headed for Maya's house after fiddling with the hourglass on top of his good-luck charm and editing his appearance from Hadrian Black to Harry J. Potter with practiced ease.

* * *

When Harry left Maya's – the little brunette waving from the threshold of her family's front door – an hour and a half later, he repeated a short goodbye over his shoulder before greeting Mrs Figg on his way to Nr 4 Privet Drive, once Harry had taken his coat as well as jeans off and thrown that set of Dudley's old clothes over his favourite ones. Funny enough, his cousin seemed to have lost a fair bit of weight the past year…

Not even needing to break his stride or move his fingers, Harry silently cast a second Notice-Me-Not (this time on his face) to keep any chance of the malicious smirk from being seen. His eyes briefly flashed blood red and molten gold behind the faux glasses, Magick swirling around him in anticipation.

He kept up the pretence of 'not' having spotted Remus discreetly following him. Yule two nights ago seemed to have finally pushed the hesitant, hurting man into action.

At that thought, Harry frowned. _Am I being a bully, using one friend's pain for my own purposes? … …No, it will be_ _ **his**_ _choice; whatever happens, I will be shot of the Dursleys for good today and it's up to Remus what he wants to do about it. But all trust I have in him will likely plummet if he does betray me again._

Nevertheless, the gleam in his light emerald eyes softened and Harry hummed _'Part Of Your World'_ as he pushed the tinge of guilt to the deepest recess of his mind, onto the ever-present companion carefully hidden deep inside in daytime.

The little wizard knocked on his relatives' front door rhythmically, smirking cheekily as he knew it would annoy them. Case in point, Petunia scowled down at him when she opened the door. Behind a tree, Remus frowned.

Harry's smirk turned into a mockingly polite smile at the snapped order to get in and get back to work from his only maternal aunt. "I'm so sorry, Auntie Petunia. I got carried away playing with my friend."

"Don't lie, boy! I know you have no friends!" _Blind idiot_ , Harry couldn't help thinking at the snippiness. Really, crimson did not even start unknowingly bleeding into his eyes; her behaviour was **that** appalling. Had his self-esteem been as non-existent as the Dursleys would prefer, Harry had no doubt he would have tried to appeal to them. But, reality was, this kind of idiocy only served to piss him off.

With that oh-so-polite-and-not-at-all-mocking air still about him, the 7-year-old walked in with his shoulders purposefully hunched and head bowed in submission. Using meagre Occlumency to force that incessant presence to SHUT the heck UP already its complaints about showing weakness, and (oh, **great** ) now a second one felt to have joined the first, familiar one in its strong disapproval of such a display. Serving only to make Harry even **more** annoyed at the Dursleys for indirectly causing this whole phenomena in the first place.

In the hiding place with a Notice-Me-Not Charm against Muggles, Remus' frown deepened into a full-blown scowl; his hearing was sharp enough to let everything the Evans pair said reach him. _Lily, you were right all along. She_ _ **is**_ _beyond hope! …Albus, what have you DONE?!_

The Werewolf's indignation increased as he saw his Pup – his little Pup whose far-too-thin appearance was not helped in the least by those ragged clothes that did not fit in the least – get forcibly dragged inside by Petunia. The same bint who had refused his Lily's wedding invitation when Vernon was not invited as well.

 ** _"I should have known!" Lily shouted, striding up and down the living-room of Remus and Sirius' shared flat. The unopened invitation and attached note were crumpled on the coffee table next to Remus' steaming mug of hot chocolate. "Why was I even surprised; this is_** _such_ _ **typical Tuney! 'Freak wedding', indeed! James was a perfect GENTLEMAN every. Single.**_ _One_ _ **. Of those few times they've met, but she can do nothing but complain. Like that walrus she calls a husband is an exemplary human being.**_ _HA_ _ **!"**_

 ** _"I can't decide if I should laugh or hide," Sirius muttered to Remus from the corner of his mouth. Peter shuddered, while James grinned like the lovesick fool he was._**

 ** _Remus threw said idiot a pointed look, hissing: "Groom Prongs, will you_** _talk_ _ **to your bride-to-be?"**_

 ** _The bespectacled 19-year-old did not come out of his stupor until Sirius pinched his arm, the dark-haired canine earning himself a reflexive smack in the face for that. Peter and Remus snickered; after all these years, the estranged Black kept being wilfully ignorant of his best friend's deeply ingrained hit-first tendencies._**

 ** _"Luv, I know you're upset–"_**

 ** _"Upset?!" James took a step back rather than approaching his girlfriend more, holding up his hands in the universal I-come-in-peace gesture. He frowned, starting to get angry at his future sister-in-law for wounding the love of his life in such a way. Underneath the outrage was deep hurt he strongly suspected stemmed from years of isolated incidents piling up much like with Snivellus._**

 ** _"Lily, hun',_** _listen_ _ **to me." The Potter Scion took her hands and pecked Lily on the lips to silence the next angry tirade. Pulling away, he looked at her with such fierce protectiveness and tenderness that the redhead calmed down enough to listen.**_

 ** _"Petunia is just being spiteful; this is probably payback for missing her own wedding regardless of it being to save innocent lives. I don't want her to ruin our special day for you, so… if you need her there, we boys can go have a talk with the Dursleys and even invite Vernon if that's what we have to do."_**

 ** _"…James." The three young men on the shabby sofa pointedly looked away as their couple friends snogged. When Lily pulled away, she smiled at her groom-to-be despite the lingering upset. "Don't do that. I truly appreciate it, but my sister is not worth us making allowances just for them. I still have a couple Muggle friends and my family coming; if Petunia wants to be a bitch, it's her problem. Not ours."_**

 ** _Seeing James sag in visible relief, Lily giggled._** **My arrogant, generous toerag… S** ** _he kissed him on the nose, then shot a hex at Sirius over the messy-haired ravenette's shoulder for wolf-whistling._**

Remus quickly came out of his trip down memory lane. He cautiously approached the detached house, brow wrinkling in confusion when the shimmering of Wards – most likely Blood ones, since that would explain Albus' certainty that Harry would be safe here even if they were technically illegal – was conspicuously absent. A month ago he had seen them from behind that same tree and naturally hadn't dare go closer in fear of triggering a warning to his former Headmaster.

 _Did Albus take them down? But that makes no sense; why would Harry still be here, then? No, something else must be going on. …I just hope it's not stray Death Eaters._

As the Werewolf reached the front door, his heart rate quickened at the sounds of shouting and what could only be Harry crying out in terror if the blast of two distressed scents (one of which he would not realize until later smelt familiar) emitting from the house.

His Magic surged to life properly for the first time in six years, Accidentally using the Unlocking Charm on Petunia's door. Remus' eyes flashed from the softness of light forest green to a molten gold filled with feral fury as he rushed in.

Ignoring a paling Petunia's shriek at his entrance and a purple-faced Vernon's shouting, the sandy brunette followed a chubby blond boy's horrified gaze to the door of a cupboard located underneath the stairs. He **literally** growled, eyes turning completely gold as Moony barked and snarled at the back of his psyche in a mindless rage.

"How. **Dare**. You?!" Remus gritted his teeth, two decades' experience the only thing keeping him from tearing the two adults limb from limb. He knelt in front of the cupboard and ripped its door off, hitting Vernon in the face when the obese man tried to punch him in anger. Petunia screamed as her husband fell unconscious from pieces of wood shattering against his face and a crack signifying a facture somewhere on his face.

"Harry…" Remus could barely believe his eyes; the poor cub was terrified out of his wits! "Harry, it's me. Moony. I won't hurt you, Harry, **never**. Please, let me help."

* * *

When Vernon grabbed Harry by the scruff of his shirt, he could feel his eyes turn gold and literally snarled with a defiant glare while part of him was scared enough to consider submitting. He was thrown bodily into his former cupboard bedroom.

"No, don't!" Light emerald bleeding back into his irises, Harry could feel sweat begin to form on his (secretly scarred) forehead and his heart beating rapidly inside his chest. A wave of dizziness washed over the child as he trembled – Occlumency was currently no help in reducing the rising panic. "Please, I'll be good, promise! PLEASE, let me out!"

Through the paranoid haze, Harry heard what sounded like Dudley yelling at his own parents. But surely that could not be?

His breathing grew ragged and the ravenette choked back a sob. _I won't do this again; it was a stupid idea and backfired spectacularly. I'll be_ _ **good**_ _! Please, please, please…_

Harry had no idea how long he kept going like that. It might have been two minutes or two years for all he knew.

 _MOONY!_ A distant part of his mind cried out in joyful relief and **thankMagickhe'shere**. [thank Magick he's here]. But the terror was still there and a blood red fleck appeared in each of Harry's eyes.

 ** _Dark. Howl. Pain,pain,pain!_** [Pain, pain, pain!]

He flinched away from the scarred hand reaching out for him, making his big friend freeze.

Tears sprang into the bright green eyes. _All my fault!_ Harry hadn't the foggiest clue whose thought that was. His own, one of those two presences' or Remus'.

It didn't matter. Thin arms were pulling him out of the cupboard and hugging him close. Harry buried his face in the crook of Remus' collarbone, sobbing because it was all too much and _WhydidIeverthinkthisisagoodidea?_ [Why did I ever think this is a good idea?]

Remus was saying something but the hurting little boy heard none of it, nor did he hear his aunt meekly respond and nod fearfully. Dudley's short conversation with the Werewolf flew right over his head too.

"I want HOME!" Harry mumbled into the tear-stained shirt. And, as always, Magic answered.

* * *

An odd sensation that brought to mind the saying "butterflies in my stomach" combined with the feeling of diving into water suddenly filled Remus. Next thing he knew, both himself and Harry were inside a guest bedroom with lowest part of one wood panelled wall covered by some various bags. His breath hitched at spotting a familiar stuffed lion on the bed.

 ** _"I want HOME!"_** The plea echoed in the Werewolf's mind. _So, this is Harry's real home. Though I wonder where exactly 'here' is… But, regardless, Pup is far more important than satisfying my own curiosity._

Looking down at the kid clutching himself in all but desperation, Remus could feel Moony pacing anxiously deep inside. "Harry? Pup, can you hear me?"

Harry sniffled. "Moony?" he quietly asked without raising his head.

"I'm here." As he hugged his godson, running free hand's fingers through the unruly ebony locks, Remus thought with absolute certainty: _And I will NEVER leave you again!_

It took a few more minutes before he felt his cub finally relax. A look down told him Harry had fallen asleep. _Poor Harry. I'm so,_ _ **so**_ _sorry for not coming sooner. Lily, James… I hope one day you can forgive me for everything I've done to him, because I will NEVER forgive myself._

Remus tucked his Cub in bed, kissed the top of his head (where the famed lightning bolt scar seemed strangely absent) and sat down on the edge to wait for him to wake up.

* * *

A couple hours later, Harry regained consciousness.

Ironically, the first thing he thought about was how Dudley had defended him: **_"Leave him ALONE, Dad!"_** The big question was why the spoiled brat would do that when the Evans cousins never got along. Or, maybe that was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things considering what Harry had been thinking when he poked and prodded at his 'guardians' like a pair of sleeping dragons…

 _Is that how Dudley felt? That his parents being horrible to me is suddenly unacceptable? …Either way, I still need to talk things out with Remus._

"Hadrian?" _Dang it. I was hoping he wouldn't notice…_

The ravenette opened his eyes to find Remus giving him an anxious look. He frowned in confusion at actually **feeling** the man's distress. "Hi, Moony."

Remus rubbed his face. _This is so confusing._ "You're Hadrian Black, and Harry Potter?" It was not really a question; holding the little boy had bulldozed over all excuses his mind had tried to supply for him when he recognized that scent with jarring clarity.

Kid scratched the back of his head, an action often seen in Hadrian. "And James Evans, though I like to go by Jamie."

" **How**?" The Werewolf was sure he had no right to ask "Why?", so he didn't bother.

Those turbulent emotions returned with a vengeance as Harry sat up in bed. He clutched Leo to his chest, biting lower lip so hard he drew a trickle of blood.

Instead of providing an answer, the kid asked a question that had been bothering him since the start of August: "Who are you to me?"

So Remus explained, his voice subdued. Another silence stretched between them.

 _I was going to be stuck in that hellhole until my mid-teens, when this whole time I had a GODPARENT who should have taken guardianship over me. Yet I was left by some ol' Santa-Claus-wannabe on the Dursleys' frigging_ _ **doorstep**_ _in bloody November! How the fuck could he just_ _ **abandon**_ _me like that?!_ Rage bubbled up inside him.

Clenching his hands into fists so hard blood would have been drawn if he didn't regularly trim them, the 7-year-old got out of bed with Leo dropping onto the floor. He then proceeded to shout (red-faced) his thoughts in an incomprehensive mess. The whiny howling at the back of his mind that sounded along the lines of "No upset, Moony!" and Harry's mixed feelings only served to make the righteous anger skyrocket. He took a step back, coldly glaring up at the man he had come to see as his **real** Uncle.

Said man was feeling more horrified, ashamed and guilty by the second, the emotions easily strong enough to push Moony's indignation at being spoken to – well, shouted at – this way and his own vague thought that Harry looked a lot like Lily in a temper to the back of Remus' mind.

"Tell me, Remus, how do I know you will not betray me a second time?" Harry kept his voice flat, shoddily Occluding in an attempt to lessen the roaring mess of guilt (for manipulating one of the very few adults he had come to trust), rage and fear.

"…" Sigh. Remus looked at the child with such sadness that Harry's emotions other than guilt waned and an unfamiliar, icky feeling rose in his chest. "…I suppose you simply don't. But I do regret not being there for you when you needed me, Harry."

He stood up and headed for the door.

The flecks which had started bleeding Harry's eyes crimson contracted until they were just miniscule specks. Which then filled his irises like a flash only for a blink even as that presence who was not Hunter started loudly sobbing.

Light emerald orbs were widening as everything he felt washed away, like leaves down a river, to be replaced by a brief wave of someone else's pain and **Remuswasleaving**! [Remus was leaving!] _I hurt him, I hurt him, I_ _ **hurt**_ _him!_

 _Is that… screaming? Who's screaming? …Oh. It's me._

"No, no, no, no, no, no, **no**! Don't leave me!

 **PLEASE** , DON'T LEAVE ME, MOONY!"

* * *

A.N.: Huh. Guess Harry hated that cupboard more than I expected. He was supposed to smirk in satisfaction after Remus burst in…

Hope how Harry feels is clear in-story. I kinda feel bad for Remus, so at this point he's been tortured enough for his poor judgement (especially since the guy has not quite reached canon Lupin's levels of stupidity yet and now likely never will). Harry is being a little unreasonable; he's SEVEN so what do you expect? He got into a fist fight the first week of ( **not** primary) school, and when people feel like a huge mess inside they tend to lash out at those trying to help.

 _'Plans and pranks'_ will be up next since I had to cut this chapter in half and change its first part's title.

In other news, I am currently leaning towards Slytherin for Harry's future House. Thoughts?

Serodis – from Latin word 'sero', meaning 'to lock', and canon spell Colloportus, which seals doors.

F.Y.I., I recommend NOT using a toaster to mildly cook meat in real life.

Apologies for the crude language. But this **is** Rated M so the occasional swearword is the last thing you should be bothered by.

I figured disagreements over wedding invitations could easily be another strike in the chasm forming between the Evans sisters.

To Ddragon21: Yes, Harry will become an Animagus; just a very **abnormal** one.

To Hayacinth - SparkleTits: I was gonna wait until we meet Tonks to explain this in-story, but here goes – Harry is a higher-level partial Metamorphmagus. That means he can change his appearance like Tonks in canon, but is more limited. E.g. he **cannot** change his age or size without outside help (which will be explained in the next Chapter). The new cover picture is how Harry looks at 6-8 years old, and I've repeatedly described in text that his hair is a total mess that's mostly the black colour from canon but has a bit of blondness and redness added into it to make himself feel unique (a form of rebelling against the Dursleys). Harry also often morphs his hair, and changes his eye colour between the canon bright green inherited from his mum, his dad's hazel, Sirius' grey and, without knowing it, gold or red. The latter two will be explained in-story sooner or later.

Hope this clears things up! :D

P.S. Apologies for the stupidly long Author's Note.


	13. B1 Chapter 13

**Chapter 13. Confessions of a Drama Magnet**

* * *

" **PLEASE** , DON'T LEAVE ME, MOONY!"

Remus froze at the pure **desperation** in the voice of his deceased friends' son, all thoughts of giving the child some space fleeing to be replaced by icy dread. A small body impacted with the back of his legs. _Pup…_

The Werewolf partially turned around, flinching at the scent all but radiating from Harry as the 7-year-old looked up at him tearfully. He knelt, unsure what to do or say. So he followed instinct by hugging his Cub.

Harry sniffled. _I don' wanna be all alone again!_

Eyes closed, he could sense Kreacher's Magick approaching along with his own. _Can't let a paradox occur!_ the little wizard realized somewhere in the recess of his mind.

So he Teleported.

* * *

The emotional mess of a pair landed in Lupin Cottage. Remus shook his head to remove the feeling of disorientation, then picked Harry up and walked the few steps to sit on his family's old sofa with the child still clinging to him. "…Harry?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"Please talk to me. I **won't** leave you."

The young 'shape-shifter' could literally feel the hurting man's sincerity. So, still without moving his head, he talked: "I… I used to write letters to Mum an' Dad."

Remus nodded, remembering when it had been mentioned and seeing said moment in a whole new light. Before it had been a lost little boy's attempt to hold onto family, but now it was **his Cub** holding onto James and Lily after losing them firsthand. He doubted the guilt of Harry dealing with this all alone would ever wane.

"I r-read them. ya know?" poor, scared Pup continued with his voice partially muffled by Remus' shirt, "A couple of my first ones mention that someone left me on the Dursleys' doorstep in November 1st 1981, just after that bad wizard murdered my parents. P-Petunia lied about 'em driving drunk and dying in a car-crash."

The sandy brunette bit the inside of his cheek to keep from interrupting with a literal snarl, like Moony was doing at the back of his mind. He pushed the fury and outrage down with the same practiced struggle as pushing away his wolf side over the years. One thing was certain – he would NEVER forgive Albus and Petunia for what they had done to James and Lily's son.

"See, they disliked me coz I'm a freak."

"You are **not** a freak!" The growl left Remus before said thought had even fully processed.

Harry shrugged without looking up, not bothering to elaborate how they **did** have a point to an extent. He was abnormal even in Wizarding terms; that hardly mattered, though. "…I pretty much raised myself ever since that night. After a lot of hard work, I discovered how to use my Magic to help me.

When I Shadow-Teleported into my parents' old house in Godric's Hollow, I found somethin'."

 ** _6-year-old Harry wandered through the destroyed house, at one point resting a hand on one dusty wall with ivy beginning to creep up it. "How could people just leave it like this?"_**

 ** _He could feel flashes of memories – snippets of both the good times and the night he lost everything – at the back of his mind. His eyes turned momentarily crimson with each memory, tears trickling down his cheeks as a separate part of him remembered what he had lost and how._**

 **"It has happened, Master. The Potters made me their Secret Keeper."**

 ** _"Who's there?!" Harry demanded, wincing at how his lightning bolt scar flared and then glancing around in paranoia at the sudden raspy, rather whiny voice. Had it been in his head? His fist clenched tighter and the little boy outstretched it behind himself at waist-level, ready to shoot Aerora any second._**

 **It… it really did come from my head. That was a memory, except… this one makes no sense. I was… bigger?** ** _Now he really didn't know what to think!_** **No, that wasn't me! I would NEVER let anyone hurt Dad or Mum if I could help it! And the voice… it was Wormtail, telling me something about a… secret?** ** _Harry hadn't the slightest clue how he even knew that fact, but he was as certain of it as he was that the sky would be blue in the morning._** **Who… who's Wormtail?**

 ** _The lost kid shook his head, continuing to walk up the stairs even as his eyes unknowingly flashed back and forth between his mother's light emerald and the blood red associated with those glimpsed memories floating away as quickly as they came. Like they did not belong to him…_**

 ** _Harry could not handle the pounding pain in his head anymore, collapsing halfway up the stairs and simply laying there clutching it for hours._**

Even in the present, the 7-year-old could barely recall that night around nine months ago because of all the mental snapshots he'd recalled heading towards his old nursery. Continuing the confessions, Harry muttered into the crook of Remus' shoulder: "In the morning I found a secret box that'd been left for me by Mum a bit before she… I-it had some official papers and lots of personal letters in it; I put those into a safe place." _Underneath the floorboard with all of my more special stuff at the Dursleys'. But now they're in my backpack instead coz I don' wanna leave 'em outta my sight._

"One letter had instructions in it on how to use the papers. I changed the paper trail Mum had made to belong to 'Hadrian Black' instead of 'Hadrian Evans', an' then used it to help me make a new one for 'James Evans'. Playing around with my primary school records helped too.

Next I went lookin' for a way to be in two places at once not long before that day we met, my 7th birthday. 'Cause 'Harry Potter' an' Jamie needed to have alibis so nobody would ever know they're both me. I didn' bother with Hadrian coz the Magical World won't expect me until I'm starting at Hogwarts, and they see me anyway in Diagon Alley sometimes.

That's how I found this." Harry pulled his good-luck charm out from under Dudley's old shirt. "The hourglass, it's a Time-Turner. I spend six hours a day in both of my schools at the exact same time, and a third six hours more or less resting between 'em."

Remus was stunned, blinking. _How…? Just,_ _ **what**_ _?_ It took several minutes before he could form a coherent thought, let alone voice it.

Harry started fidgeting, now feeling regret for having told an adult – even one he trusted wholeheartedly – everything. "How," he looked up at Remus question, "how didn't, erm, Jamie's teachers notice his small size?" Said triple-identity kid blinked in surprise. _That's what you're asking about? Not, 'why would a little kid even want to do all this?';_ _ **really**_ _?_

"…I ordered Aging Potion through Hedwig. By changing her feathers' colour, I made sure the people making it wouldn't notice it's the same owl every time. I even check her for Tracking Charms many miles away from my room, just in case. And a couple times managed to stock up in person." _One vial lasts me a week, so a monthly purchase was enough._

"U-huh…" Honestly, it was rather intimidating to learn a child of merely seven years old could display so much intelligence, cunning, hard work, pure nerve and sheer Magical skill. James would have been proud as a peacock, Lily encouraging her son to keep doing his best. He had to wonder what she had told Harry in her letters and how Remus himself could help.

"Right," Remus stated decisively. _I refuse to let them all down again._

He tightened an arm wrapped around his godson in a protective hug, removing the other from said embrace to retrieve his wand from a pocket. "I, Remus Jonathan Lupin, **swear** to you, Harry – as James Potter's, Lily Evans' and Hadrian Black's friend – that I will **never** reveal these secrets without your express permission to single soul." Like with his friends' Oaths, Remus' own Magick floated in a cyan stream of light from the tip of his wand to cover his body completely for a split second before vanishing.

The little wizard stared up at him wide-eyed. "Wha', huh? What the fudge, Remus?!"

"That was a Wizard's Oath, Harry," the Werewolf explained, "If I break it, I lose all my Magic. Best case scenario, I'll become a Squib; worst, I die from the backlash."

Harry gaped. _Y-you…_ "W- **why**?! You di-dn't have to make a, an Oath!"

Remus ruffled the conflicted kid's raven hair, making it stick all over the place more. "I **want** to, Harry. It's the least I can do."

His Cub strongly disagreed. "You DON' understand!

Today, I was gonna **manipulate** you into helping me! I spent ages this morning planning how to best trick you. I made the Dursleys mad at me ON PURPOSE coz I knew you were close by and hoped to use that as a base for it."

"That's… actually kind of disturbing. … Still, my decision stands. And it was brave of you to tell me the truth, Harry."

 _Is this guy for real?_ "No. It. Wasn't! I'm selfish, and cowardly, and cruel.

For years, I've stolen from the Dursleys anything I wanted every day. I became friends with Luna only because her mum lets me use their Ritual Room to practice brewing Potions. I take broken toys and fix 'em with Magic to sell to kids in my primary, and sometimes I spend a couple hours scamming random Londoners for money without them any the wiser." _That last one I came up with thanks to Toph from nonexistent ATLA…_

Remus ruffled the ebony locks again, giving a rueful smile. "I suppose that is a bit worrying; either way, we will have to disagree on this. Pup, you often tell Luna stories and always play with her when you visit the Lovegoods, right?"

"Yeah…?" _Where's he going with this?_

"And when she hurt herself on a stone the other day, you used Magic to heal the scrape, didn't you?"

"Umm… I did."

"And help your classmates at school?"

"Sometimes…"

Remus hugged his Cub. "See? You are kind, like Lily, and loyal, like James. They would be so proud of you, Harry."

The little boy sniffed, tears singing his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "Even though I use people for my own ends?"

"Everyone does to some extent, Pup," the Werewolf admitted in an almost whisper, a few dark memories flashing though his mind. "Hurting people on purpose for no reason is the line we can't cross."

"Okay… Thanks, Moony."

"Sure thing, Harry. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me, but I promise to be there for you from now on."

Harry wiped at the dried tear tracks with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry too, for being a sneaky, selfish brat," he murmured into the crook of Remus' neck.

The Werewolf smiled once more, light forest green eyes filled by regret. _We really are a mess, aren't we?_ He wanted to ask of one detail Moony kept nagging him about, but decided now was not the time. _If my hunch is correct, it's best I wait until Harry feels comfortable talking about it. Heaven knows I_ _ **wasn't**_ _…_

Emotionally exhausted, the scarred pair spent an hour simply resting. To think 1987 was mere days from ending; a New Year, new beginnings…

* * *

When they got up from the sofa, Remus still carrying Harry, a knock came from the front door. The kid at once squirmed to get down, pulled his cousin's old shirt and pants off and – to Remus' amazement – changed his eye and hair colour with ease. Followed by scrunching up his nose in concentration to edit the details of his face followed by skin colour. The Werewolf found the sight of James-with-Lily's-eyes turning into Hadrian Black fascinating.

The sandy brunette shook his head, going to open the door rather than marvel at his cub's skill. _I'll have to tell him about Metamorphmagi…_

Luna skipped into the one-floored cottage a moment later. "Good morning, Remus. Hello, Harry Evans-Potter-Black."

Her best friend blinked, then cocked his head questioningly. "How'd you know…?" He gestured to himself and Remus.

Luna giggled. "I didn't, silly!"

She took the dumfounded kid's hand and tugged him outside. Remus followed close behind, unwilling to ever let Harry out of his sight if he can help it.

The little blond stared humming one of the many songs she had learnt over the past few months. Recognizing it, Harry let out a startled laugh before moving to slam closed the Lupin Cottage front door while shyly singing:

 _"My whole life has been a series of doors in my face_

 _And then suddenly I bump into you…"_ He squeezed Luna's hand, then smiled softly up at an amusedly surprised Remus while gesturing to the nearby woods as he told them:

 _"I've been searching my whole life to find my own place,_

 _And maybe it's the heart talking but I know that tis true_ –"

 _"But we do,–"_ Luna cut in as they danced about, grinning.

 _"That with you–"_ Harry sang,

 _"I found my place."_

 _"Yes, see your face,"_ Luna told him, patting his cheek moist from a stray tear.

 _"And it's nothing like I've ever known before!"_ they chorused, twirling around before letting go as they danced around the adult Werewolf singing:

 _"Love is an open door-oo-or!_

 _Love is an open doo-oo-oo-oor!_

 _Love is an open door!"_

 _"With you!"_ Luna sang.

 _"With you!"_ Harry let her grab his hand as he sang the short line, using his free one to take Remus'.

 _"With you!"_

 _"With you!"_

 _"Love is an open door…"_ they finished together, Harry pleasantly surprised by his grownup friend joining at the last line.

Remus blinked back his own tears, moved by the faith Lily and James' son still had in him and grateful Harry had such a good friend in Luna. He pulled both children into a hug, then ruffling their hair as he suggested all three go out for a small meal if it was all right with Luna's parents. "My treat."

* * *

Before long, the strange trio – made up by a slip of a girl with flowers woven into her straggly waves of dirty blonde hair, a slightly older boy whose wild mess of hair consisted of three different colours yet looked perfectly natural, and a scarred young man whose short sandy brown hair was starting to grey – were sitting in the nearest fast food restaurant eating burgers and chips washed down by a can of soda each.

Putting down his half-eaten burger, Remus broke the comfortable silence that had descended on them after his cub and Luna had finished chattering with each other in-between eating: "Harry…"

"Yeah?"

"Could you explain why the idea of me leaving hurt you so much?" Remus winced, wishing he had thought of a better way to phrase it. "You don't have to, though! It's your choice."

He felt sadness course through himself once again at the broken laugh Harry gave.

 _My own words coming back to haunt me._ "I'm… messed up, Moony."

"That's not tr–"

"It's true," the child interrupted with disquieting calm. He looked down at the table almost emptily, a sadly beautiful melody cutting through the blanket of nothingness that had appeared in his mind in response to Accidentally Occluding. He started softly singing the words floating through his mind:

 _"And I've lost who I am, and I can't understand_

 _Why my heart is so broken, rejecting your–_

 _Love without, love gone wrong;_

 _Lifeless words carry on. …"_

"Harry…" the 27-year-old murmured, wanting to hug the hurting child close and never let go.

The Metamorphmagus closed his eyes, then slowly opened them after several minutes. "I really, really hate small spaces. Especially that cupboard. I don't wanna **ever** return there." Understandable. The sandy brunette made a mental note to ensure the Dursleys would not think they got away with abusing a child, let alone James and Lily's son.

He bit his lip, Remus not even needing his heightened sense of smell to identify the heavy guilt weighing down his Cub's shoulders. "I am not angry at you for the plan of manipulation, Pup," he reassured in a gentle voice. _More like furious with myself and the Dursleys and Albus for making you feel it was necessary in the first place._

A long silence, neither comfortable nor awkward, followed.

Harry eventually spoke up again: "Am I crazy?"

Remus blinked. "What makes you think that?"

"…" _Might as well admit it; I've already told him everything else. Well,_ _ **almost**_ _…_ "This morning, I coulda sworn I heard voices in my head when confronting my relatives – it happened just as you came to help me."

The Werewolf in his late twenties was tempted to rub his temples and sigh; Harry really was a magnet for trouble, wasn't he? "Pup, you are **not** crazy. But… I won't lie to you; hearing voices is not considered any more positive in the Wizarding World than in the Non-magical one."

"Okay… So, I should keep that titbit to myself?"

"Maybe you're hearing a Wind Spirit." Both males looked at Luna in surprise, having forgotten she was there amidst their discussion. The little girl tucked a strand of her hair behind an ear, revealing a studded earning (one half of the pair her mother had given as a Yule present, to match the hand-carved and painted necklace from Xeno). She added absentmindedly: "Daddy says Wind Spirits are just like a tempest, the small Creatures whirling powerfully through the land without regard for rules that don't come from their Heart. Mummy told me that's only half of it; the other half is bringing an air of change, but whether that will be for the better or worse to the rest of the world depends on the Wind Spirit. They are **always** some sort of protectors, though.

Mummy says Puzzle-Serpent would have been a Wind Spirit if he had not become so afraid of the final Twilight."

 _…_ _HUH?!_ was all that went through Harry's and Remus' minds at her explanation. They then looked at each other, blinking. A short moment of camaraderie passed through the scarred pair at their shared bafflement over what Luna had just said.

She smiled in amusement at that, and tapped her finger to her mouth. "Do you want to know a secret?" The two males slowly nodded, unsure what to expect. "Harry is really three different people at the same time."

"Umm, I know **that** , Luna. There's Harry J. Potter, Hadrian Black and Jamie Evans," the tricoloured boy pointed out, switching his hair colour and style to match each before settling back on his favoured one.

His best human friend shook her head. "Nope, Moon-Warrior. I meant your **Hearts**."

"'Hearts'? As in, plural?" Remus wondered aloud. Their remaining food was completely forgotten by now.

She nodded he head daintily. "Yes, Hearts. Most people call them Souls… I think I really like Fanta; what about you, Harry?"

He gaped at her for the abrupt subject change. "Luna…" Deciding the headache his witch buddy caused 'normal' people on a regular basis was not worth getting answers right now, Harry gave a small sigh and plucked out a chip from the pile of them on his napkin. "Fanta's good, but I prefer 7Up." He popped it into his mouth, adding: "Though I'd like any citrus drink that's not horribly bitter-tasting."

Remus ran a hand through his hair, determining talking to Harry about earlier could wait a little while longer. _I think it's high time I show them around the local area, even if there is nothing particularly exciting like an amusement park._

A couple hours passed simply walking all over Portswood, Southampton. The kids especially enjoyed the large park of Southampton Common and had lots of fun there.

* * *

They were walking down the street in Borough of Islington, London previously used by Harry, said child having Teleported the trio there so he could properly show his new residence to his friends. Pointing at the mansion of a house as soon as they were close, he said: "There, Number 12."

Remus glanced up and down the street. "Err, Harry? We can't see it."

"Huh? Whadda you mean? It's right there." Plain as day, Harry had just seen Grimmauld Place appear between its neighbours Nr 11 and Nr 13, seeming to shove them out of the way as it apparently squeezed into existence between the Non-magical homes.

"C'mon!" Grabbing Remus and Luna by a hand each, he pulled them to the worn set of front steps. The instant both stepped on them, they blinked in surprise as the mansion of a house appeared in front of them.

"It has to be Unplottable. Makes sense, considering Sirius' father was on the paranoid side," the fully-grown Werewolf muttered, kids' mouths forming an O in understanding.

The three Magicals walked up the steps to a thick front door – one slightly decorated by a silver knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent, with no keyholes, handles or anything else that would indicate it was a door in the first place.

Harry stared at it, then chuckled sheepishly while scratching the back of his head. "Whoops. I forgot to ask Kreacher how it works."

He jumped a whole foot into the air at the sudden loud, clanging bell sound. Turning to the source of very familiar giggling, Harry mock-glared at Luna as she let go of the doorbell and climbed back down the ivy creeping up almost to the second floor of Grimmauld Place.

"Hold on a sec," the tricoloured kid told his friends, and carefully backed away from the building down the steps and crossed the street (after checking for cars). He grinned. "Cool! It vanishes when ya leave."

Harry played with his new home for a minute, jumping forward and backwards snickering as the building reappeared and vanished respectively. Luna skipped over and pulled him over to the front door. Remus shook his head in amusement, smiling. _At least Pup is feeling better if he's inclined to mess around like this._

Said 7-year-old placed his palm, with the fingers splayed, onto the front door.

The front door of Grimmauld Place opened inward, allowing the trio's entrance to the long hallway Harry had discovered Walburga's portrait in yesterday. He smiled in pleased surprise as the gas lamps burned to life again, a large overhead chandelier making the space better lit up as the tiny flames' light reflected off it twice as strong.

"Welcome to my home," the messy-haired boy pompously announced with wide sweeping gestures, morphing his hair colour to golden blonde and eyes stormy gray. Luna paid no attention to this, curiously looking at the troll-leg umbrella stand; while Remus chuckled at his cub's regained playfulness, but was a little puzzled over the morph.

He lifted his gaze past the house-elf heads (above the two sets of stairs connecting the ground floor to the first landing). The Werewolf saw ornately framed portraits dotted above the third and fourth set of stairs (which one could use to reach the 2nd floor of Grimmauld Place) but covered by dark curtains, thinking: _It's best I wait a bit to ask._

They walked down the grand entryway beginning to gloom and cobweb from lack of use, Harry leading the pair glancing around at the serpent décor in curiosity. Remus got the feeling Sirius had not been the least bit fond of those…

The trio entered the spacious, surprisingly clean dining room, Harry eagerly showing Luna the Black family china – complete with Family crest – visibly stored on a wooden shelf with the rest hidden in the below dresser. "What's your Family crest, Luna?"

"Ours has a maple leaf with dewdrops," the female blond replied.

"Cool– Oh! This is Kreacher, the Blacks' house-elf." Said Creature had just Apparated into the room. He did not look too happy with the guests. "Kreacher, my **best** friend Luna Lovegood and my god– err… godfather, Remus Lupin. Luna, Moony, this is Kreacher."

Kreacher greeted Harry, bowing. "And the blood-traitor's little brat brought a half-breed into my poor Mistress' house; oh, how she would weep!" he muttered in a rude tone.

To his shock, Young Master Hadrian just rolled his eyes with a sarcastic smile and the Lovegood girl hugged him. "There, there. You won't be all alone again with Harry here," she told the house-elf.

 _If only I could tell Prongs, Wormtail and Padfoot about this. They'd think I had gone bonkers!_ the sandy brunette thought with smile, stepping towards his cubs while keeping a watchful eye on the elderly house-elf – he included Luna now considering the Lovegoods' kindness and generosity towards him and, anyway, the little girl seemed so fragile that he couldn't help feeling almost as protective of her as Harry; not to mention her uniqueness would make her a prime target for bullies, something Remus refused to let happen to either of these two kids.

As soon he was free, Kreacher Disapparated. The trio left the dining room and walked upstairs into the drawing room instead. "It's very… black," Luna bluntly remarked.

"Duh!" Harry replied with a snicker, ruffling her hair. She pouted and then fussed with it, restoring the dislodged flowers to their places. Still smiling, he ran over to the sleek piano taking up one corner of the spacious room. "Lets try playing something."

For about twenty minutes, Remus stood by the window watching amusedly as his cubs messed with the instrument. He briefly considered clapping his hands over his ears when Luna at one point banged her fingers down onto the keys so hard, both males felt their ears ring for a long moment afterward. Harry outright fell off the cushioned, rectangular stool!

Then a quick Tempus revealed Luna had been away from home for four hours in a row. Remus offered to take her back (with Harry in tow, of course).

"Oh, no thank you, Mr Lupin. Since this is a Magical residence, I shall use the FLOO," the 6-year-old answered, her giggles at Harry's highly amateurish rendition of 'Part of Your World' (from another Disney song that, apparently, had not been made) dying down.

"What's FLOO?" Harry asked, glancing from one friend to the other and back.

"Free Leap Onto Outpost," Remus told him, then shrugged at the you-gotta-be-kidding, what-kind-of-name-is- **that** look the male blond gave, "Wizards and witches have a funny thought process when naming things. Anyway, it's a network connecting all Wizarding fireplaces and utilized to transport a single person at a time from one place to a predetermined destination." Glancing around, he murmured to himself: "Though I'm not too sure whether it still works here…"

"Lets try it!" Harry decided, leaping off the stool and showing the way down to the large fireplace in the kitchen. "There's two others, one in Lord Black's office and another a floor up at the other side of the house."

He asked Kreacher to fetch the FLOO powder. Both children were watching in fascination as Remus set some kindling ablaze with an Incendio. They exchanged impressed looks, chorusing: "Wicked!"

"Right then. Luna, have you travelled by FLOO before?" the Werewolf addressed her first.

"Yes, lots of times whenever Mummy or Daddy can't walk me to Ginny's."

"In that case, could you show Harry?"

"Of course!"

The lightly tanned kid looked interestedly at the white powder Luna took a handful of from its blow-shaped metal container – the Black Family crest on it, like the dishes – and took note of how she tossed it into the fireplace with a flick of her wrist while calling out clearly: "The Rook!"

Orange and red flames, which had grown at the addition of a few wood blocks and a second Fire-Making Charm from Remus, now turned bright green. Luna stepped into the fireplace thrice her height and was whisked off in a whirl of rising ash and beautiful fire.

 _She looks like a fairy_ , was all Harry had time to think before the peer he was by far closest to vanished.

Remus turned to him next. "Are you sure about this, Harry? It's fine if you want to use your own method of travel."

The utterly unique boy shook his head. "No, I want to try this – at least once." He grabbed a handful of FLOO powder and followed Luna's example.

As he was whisked off too, Harry thought he was going to be sick from the sight of other fireplaces and hearths zooming past faster than he could blink. _Wish I could at least see them better!_

Next thing he knew, Harry tumbled out of a fireplace into the Lovegoods' living-room and kept somersaulting forward until he smacked face-first against the metallic staircase. "OWW! … Ouch, ouch, **ouch**! I thin' my no'e ith bro'en."

"Oh dear," Pandora murmured, stepping towards him just as Remus came out of their fireplace with far less dignity than Luna had but without falling down and rolling forward from the momentum like Harry did.

"Pup! Pup, are you all right? Here, let me help you." Harry did not protest when a very much panicking Remus used Episkey on his nose while cradling the injured child close. He was too busy staring at his bloodied hand, the mental cogs turning. "Pup? Harry, please say something!"

Blinking, the 7-year-old came back to the physical world then mumbled: "I'm O.K., Moony."

Sighing in relief though still highly anxious, the Werewolf held his cub close. "Right. We are **not** taking the FLOO back."

"Mm-hmm." Harry hardly paid attention, casting Cure to help make his face feel better.

A silence descended, one not precisely comfortable but not awkward either. Xeno broke it: "Tea, anyone?"

* * *

A half hour later, the scarred pair reappeared in the guest room used by Harry via Teleportation. He sat on the bed explaining that particular skill – having already told Luna, whom he was going to teach how to do it before school(s) would start up again.

"Harry," Remus said seriously as their discussion on Magical transportation methods tethered off, "at noon today I was going to give you some space. I thought it would help you sort out your feelings; it certainly helped when it came to James and, on rare occasions, Lily. I was **not** planning abandoning you again."

"…" The tricolored kid fiddled with Leo for a long moment before deciding to tentatively answer: "I'm not sure, actually. It's just… something inside me kinda snapped. I hurt, a LOT, right here." He gestured to his chest. "And one of those voices in my head was crying so much." A sigh. "Truthfully, I don't understand it at all myself."

His big friend put an arm around him, the other hand running through the messy locks comfortingly. "It's going to be okay, Pup. We'll figure this out."

"Yeah… … Although, I guess part of why I… went **nuts** had to do with being just so angry at pretty much everything, even **me** I… I felt like you'd betrayed me too."

"…I **did** betray you, Harry. And Lily and James too; they would have been just as furious with me. But… if you don't mind, I would be very glad to make it up to you."

"Okay…"

* * *

A.N.: Hope it's all now clear. I doubt I can spell it out better than this:

Claustrophobia + guilt + voices in head + very **vaguely** remembered abandonment by Sirius + anger at everything + sense of betrayal thanks to Remus = one reeeally messed up Harry.

Aaand _'Plans & pranks'_ got pushed back another Chapter. At this rate I'll never get to Hogwarts! *grumbles under breath about annoyingly independent characters*

Title is both a reference to song movie/book 'Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen', and a joke about how Harry keeps landing himself into dangerously stupid or otherwise difficult situations.

If anybody's wondering, I decided Remus grew up in the suburbs of Southampton except a little away from the rest of civilisation near deep woods (which I have no idea whether they're there in real-life).

And apparently, the Winter Solstice is December 22nd 1987 but I moved it up a week and half.

P.S. Even **I'm** confused by this story half the time. There is a general plan and several ideas – some of which get scrapped when I write a Chapter because a) the characters refuse to listen to me or b) it doesn't fit at the time / won't fit into the story at all.

 _'Writing'_ , **stressed word** , **_flashback_** , _"singing"_ , "speaking", _thinking_.

House Poll Score: Slytherin 8; Ravenclaw 8; Hufflepuff 2; Gryffindor 3.

Cheers! :D


	14. Author's Note

A.N.: Navn Ukjent made a good point about Remus not being able 'to stop himself questioning Harry if he thought' the kid 'might be the son of Sirius'. So, I'm asking you readers if you'd like a second fic that splits off this one in Ch7 and covers my Harry's reactions to canon situations.

And whatever House the Harry in H.&T.P.U. ends up in, the alternate Harry will get Ravenclaw. (I'm 99% decided on which one I want for Harry J. E-P-B!)


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